“How can it not exist? What does that—” A tiny grey body shot in front of the Land Rover. “Squirrel!”

Mad Rogan swerved to the side, trying to avoid the suicidal beast. The SUV hit a curb and jumped. For a terrifying second, we almost flew, weightless. My heart leaped into my throat. The heavy vehicle landed back on the pavement with a thud. The squirrel leapt into the grass on the other side.

I remembered to breathe. “Thank you for not killing the squirrel.”

“You’re welcome, although now I want to go back and strangle it.”