I used to burn leaves with a magnifying glass in the sun as a kid. Once, I hovered the infernal dot over an ant and watched his abdomen pop. I then observed, in zoomed-in horror, as the poor thing kept trying to feel its missing abdomen and then clean its own juices off its antennae. Other ants would come and inspect the dying ant and their antennae would tap each other's. The fallen ant was then carried back to the hive, and I felt so bad that I spent the afternoon clearing a path for the highway of ants.

To this day, I feel bad killing ants and will try to avoid it, like blowing them off my patio table before scrubbing it. It gets a brow-crinkle from my friends, though.