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Stephen King Week: JP Fallavollita’s Personal Misery
Walking home from school one hot summer day, I happened across a prone squirrel, lying on a grassy boulevard. It looked hurt; it’s body not moving. I don’t know. I suppose I’ve always had empathy for small creatures. I thought, perhaps unrealistically, that I could help the animal in some manner: give it a nudge towards a home burrow; ascertain injuries and contact animal control. I don’t know. Just…help.
