Arms clasped behind your back, you stand patiently watching the events unfold.

The woman is trapped within a cycle of anguish. Her veined hands curl into fists to step them from shake. Her frail body shudders with every breath she takes. The handkerchief is now ineffectual, though it still daps against the mascara of her eyes - glassy blue orbs swollen with tears, a physical manifestation of love and grief.

Despite yourself, you watch with carefully concealed fascination as the liquid concoction of emotions trickle down the wrinkles of her cheek and splatter against the immaculately clean tiles of the ground. Your breath hitches up as you can see the tide in her eyes turn with a burst of passionate fire.

"Please sir, tell me that there's another way!"

You mould your face into one of compassionate apology, ready to speak -

"Not my poor Fredrick. I-I love him!"

It's strange how love drives people to do this to their friends. Even though it's logical. Even though it makes sense, as it typically would with others, but you never seemed to grasp fully the thought processes behind it. Perhaps it's because you always witness the heartbreak that befalls on those closest. You don't imagine that the average person would share that same experience.

With a shuddering gasp, the lady's embrace on her friend tightens fiercely, as though letting go would send them spiralling forever away, never to be seen again.

Which is true in a sense.

"Miss Brown, I'm very sorry." Your voice radiates a sympathetic warmth, your expression mirroring the sentiment with facial commiserations. But she understands. You need not elaborate any further, having repeated yourself over and over again, each time with a seemingly fresh burst of regret.

"Do you need more time?" You ask gently.

There's an affirmative jerk of the head.

Your head dips and you leave the room, sighing as you close the door behind you.

It's not long before you are called back. This time, the lady seemed to have composed herself to some degree. You nod to your secretary who had lingered, offering genuineness in lieu of the absence of yours.

As though sensing that ominousness of your arrival, a pitiful whimper emerges from Fredrick. Without truly meaning to, you peer into the black abyss of his pupils and are met with a resonating, melancholic innocence.

Tearing your gaze away, you look back at Miss Brown to see she is escorted away, wondering if there was something you should've said. You never cared much for compassion. It had always seemed like an unnecessary load of bogus which your professors never seemed to stop harping on about. Regret for your insolent arrogance has plagued you ever since.

She's left but the smell of grief lingers on your white clothes. You're left alone with Fredrick's small figure lying upon the bed sheets.

His innocence gnaws at your insides. You've long suppressed your personal sentiments but there's always a hidden level of pity within your heart that unveils itself just as you perform the deed. Some people have called you heartless for your actions. A select few shower you with praise for your bravery. You've lost friends over this job. Made some too.

You let your gaze wash over him, and lay your hand across his warm back. His head lies on the cushion provided, his shoulders hunched and black curtains of greasy hair hanging limply by his sides. A pathetic creature, though you dare not voice your thoughts despite your solitude.

But assured with knowledge that 'someone has to do the job', you pick up the needle with deliberate hands. There is no resistance when you start to hold the Fredrick's body in place. The needle hovers close.

Perhaps you should say something.

But it'd be nonsense. He can’t understand you. And it would form unnecessary connections that make it ever harder to do your job.

With a sharp intake of your breath, impulse compels you for a crucial moment. It's all you need to stick the end into his skin and inject the full contents of the needle into his blood stream.

Only when his body falls limply onto the bed do you turn away.

Animal euthanasia was never an easy task.