There was a pause, people looking at their plates. Irene considered telling everyone that she had recently read a newspaper article about a newfangled indoor method of farming cows and then thought better of it. It would have involved explaining that she had cried for forty-five minutes in her office cubicle at the thought of their never being allowed outside. The pause extended, unfurled itself into the beginnings of real discomfort. Irene opened her mouth, imagined saying that after she’d stopped crying she’d spent twenty minutes googling veal farming, cows in the dark, do cows need sunlight
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