Your Daily McMaster: violence in the machine.
I looked above and noticed a walkway. The wind had been kicking up pretty high and the rat must have been tossed off and fallen. It was still alive but it looked like its legs had broken in the fall. It was breathing heavily and looked afraid. I meant to make for my car as the storm was intensifying, but I couldn’t. I stood there frozen, staring down at a dying creature. The look in its eyes made my heart lurch. Thus my internal struggle began. My first thought, as it always is with any hurt animal, was to take it to a vet. That was pushed immediately aside when I pictured bringing a dying city rat into a clinic. Easily dismissed. I moved on to option two – put it out of its misery. I looked around for something to use to kill the poor creature. I found a brick and picked it up. I even raised it a bit in the air, but in the end I couldn’t do it. No amount of zombie killing prepared me to take the basest creature’s life. The rain was starting.