Sometimes I Write TooWith a strained creak from the old storm door's cold hinges, John exited his house into the morning sun, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the glaring light. The morning air was still a bit chilly and damp. In the sun's rays, a slight mist evaporated off the dew covered grass. The storm door closed hard behind John with a loud thud. The sound caused a pair of squirrels to start chattering angrily. Cupping his hand above his eyes to protect them from the bright sun, John watched the squirrels leap after one another through the branches of a tall elm tree. One of the squirrels was light grey while the other was much darker, almost reddish. The light grey one was leading the darker one by a bit when it stopped abruptly at the edge of a broken branch. It leaned over the edge, seeming to judge the distance of the next jump when the darker squirrel slammed into its backside. Both squirrels scrambled to keep their hold on the branch.