I saw the sadness in his eyes, the sorrow of a winter that simply would not end. In the seconds I knew him, I hadn’t the time to learn his trials, his tribulations. I did, in an odd way, empathize though.
Maybe he had a family, a child screaming for his father. Maybe his family had not survived the brutality of suburban life during a harsh Pennsylvanian winter. Either way, I guess it didn’t matter at that point.
He was busy praying to his God or Gods, his ancestors or the spirits of his dead children. Even if I had the chance to ask him what drove him up there, I don’t think he would have answered. This fellow was far gone, and all I could do was speed up and hope he held off on his final leap of faith. Teetering above Route 134, he worked up the courage to end the cruelty of the life he had been born into.
In one bound, I realized I should have braked. In half a second, those deep, beady eyes of his were splattered across the hood of my mother’s van. In a breath, his misery was brought to an end by a Honda Odyssey.
I channeled Kurtz as this dear creature was cleared off by my windshield wipers, what horror! What would they say about him? That he was kind or wise? That he had plans? No, fuck that. Squirrels don’t leave notes, you idiot…
Dcid Corvid 