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I was driving home late Thursday night, and nearly hit a possum on my street. I saw his head reflecting my lights and stopped about 20 feet away. He scuttled off and I promptly forgot about the incident.
Until this morning, when I found what looked like the same possum dead in the exact same spot. I stopped the car (and probably damaged my transmission by slamming it into park before the car had fully stopped) and got out to check on him, hoping he was just injured or faking it.
No good. He was already stiff. No breathing, eyes glazed. I picked him up, moved him off the road, and put him under an oak tree.
What really pisses me off: My street is located between two major roads, and people cut through it all the time, doing 40-45 in a 25 zone. That little possum died just because some fucking asshole wanted to shave a whole extra minute off his travel time.
I save his life, and some stupid motherfucker kills him a night later.
Yet more proof that there is no justice in this miserable fucking universe of ours.
...
Goddamn, I'm tearing up here in Barnes and Noble. I'd better stop.
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