It was Monday. I was going around town taking care of the errands that don’t matter enough to be remembered now. Then I heard a scream. I looked towards a man who was nothing more than a dirty hairy mess. He was beating up a young man who, until a few moments ago, must have looked perfectly neat but was now dishevelled, trying to get from under the monstrous beast. The girl next to them kept screaming, more people came. Soon, a crowd has gathered around, a few pulled their phones out, but no one seemed to be doing anything about the fight. I wasn’t doing anything. Why wasn’t I doing anything? Finally, a few men stepped in and pulled them apart. The young man quickly slipped away while the attacker was handlocked. He mumbled something, trying to get out, but to no avail. Finally he collected himself and said, “He killed a fucking dog,” he was pointing somewhere, “he killed... just murdered it,” he was out of breath again. Everyone turned in the direction the man was showing to see a body in the narrow alley. Blood started pooling under a small puppy and was now finding its way into the street. Not a single person in the crowd had noticed it before. The girl screamed again.