19 February 2015
As I drive through the thick snow, barely seeing far enough ahead to stay on the road, my eye catches movement on the ground to the right. It’s a little squirrel, sitting by the road as calm as can be. He is unfazed by the biting cold, stoically chewing a little tidbit he’s scrounged up. I wonder where he’ll go after that and where he lives. I wonder what he thinks, if he thinks anything at all.