When I was finished, I was disgusted with my behavior. There was no relief in the act at all. I found the sheep’s trough and washed myself, noticing the thick medicinal smell in the water and then the official quarantine sign posted nearby. I noticed how oddly calm the entire flock seemed to be. They had hardly reacted, even as the little one bleated in the face of its death. I had thought it peculiar how little noise and struggle the lamb had put up—and there was none at all from its mother. I found myself faintly amused but too wrapped up in my own loneliness to pay much attention. I washed and anticipated the sleepiness—and the music, the heavenly music—that always accompanied a kill. It didn’t come.

A mile farther down the road, the sickness struck. I vomited until there was nothing left, and still I heaved. By sunrise, my eyes had swollen shut and my fingers were as thick as stuffed sausages. I could barely lift my head. I lay in a shady dry drainage ditch all day, feeling my skin stretch tighter and tighter until I thought it would pop, thirst overwhelming me, wait­ing to die.

As evening cooled the air, I felt slightly better, and by moonrise I could stand. I propped myself against a signpost, and when a car finally came along, I staggered to the side of the road. It was a young woman with a child. She stopped for me. When she saw my face in the interior light of her car, she gasped, then took me home with her, fed me, bathed me, and put me to bed.

Her name was Sarah.

I stayed with her for three days while the allergic reaction to the medicated lamb passed. The opening of her home to me was an act of charity and selfless­ness that was to follow me for a long, long time.

Sarah Monroe. She was a swarthy-­skinned, tight­ly muscled dance instructor. Sarah lived with Samuel, her three-­year-­old son, in a tiny one-­bedroom house. The boy’s large brown eyes were curious and ques­tioning, calm and patient; I had never before met such a child.

The first night, I slept. I woke frequently, but the illness was still with me, and I soon slipped back into the healing sleep my body demanded.

I slept until nightfall, when Sarah came home from work. She encouraged me to sit up and talk.