Fiction | By Sophia Huneycutt
One Sunday the Possums Swarmed Central Florida
They poked at dripping garbage bags with blunt, white nails. They nosed squirrel carcasses in the street. They chased down mice and chewed them up on the spot, their yellowed teeth raised triumphant in the air. We hadn’t thought they liked food fresh, but we could see them in our gardens plain as the Lord’s …