Squirrel
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123 Squirrel Patrick Phillips The day my brother got that .22 the pellet gun was mine: mine to load and mine to hold, mine to love a little more each time I shut one eye and turned to stone— aiming so high into the leaves my pulse blinked off and on. We killed more than the day was long, then gutted them for skins. And I forgot, from then till now, that feeling in my hands as my brother in his shades said shit, and bitch, and called me Little Man. ...
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