He turned the corner of the bustling street and found himself in a small, darkened corridor littered with broken glass and fluttering scraps of paper. Cars lined the sidewalk on one side; large shadowy trees marked the other. It was a familiar sight to him; he’d walked these streets countless times before.

Four teenaged boys were yelling and jumping around ahead, their rowdiness in sharp contrast to the deserted surroundings. He could see their darkened silhouettes, but he could not discern much more. He watched for a moment as they whooped and stomped about. “KILL! KILL! KILL!” they screamed, “KILL IT! KILL IT!”

He lagged behind, fearful that they might notice him. He was contemplating whether to cross the street when he looked up just in time to see a dark shape flying haphazardly towards him. He gasped and leapt aside, only narrowly avoiding a collision.

A pigeon landed on the ground behind him. It hesitated for a moment, then hobbled awkwardly towards the edge of the sidewalk. A leg was completely broken off, and the pigeon’s right wing was drooping in a rather strange fashion. He stopped walking and stared at the piteous bird. It made no sound as it slowly made its way beneath the carriage of a nearby car, its plump body dragging clumsily on the paved ground.

He glanced up at the teenagers yelling merrily up ahead. “KILL! KILL! KILL IT!” they chanted still. He bent down and took one last look at the injured pigeon beneath the vehicle. Poor thing, he whispered mournfully into the darkness. He lingered until the boys had disappeared from view, then he continued on his way, treading gingerly for fear of stepping on a severed pigeon foot.