Squirrel Crossing

by Tom Swift

He darted so fast and with so little warning all I could do was slam on the breaks. I have no idea how I missed his little head and frayed tail. But somehow he slipped by my front tires as my blueberry-and-yogurt breakfast rattled in the passenger-side seat and my phone and coffee cup sailed to the floor.

The morning commute takes on a whole different tone after you narrowly escape committing squirrel-slaughter.