The cow was aware that there were other ways of being cow. Somewhere, she knew, there was a different cow. She could feel her. The same, but different. In that other somewhere, the grass was lush and the bellies were fat. People didn’t leave you to blunder through the streets, emaciated and pointless. Cows could be useful. Worthwhile.

Still. May as well have a bit of fun, and stagger through the crowd. See if anyone is stupid enough to get angry. That was always fun. Crush them flat against a wall, or trample them into the road. Perhaps she would even give herself a real treat and sit on somebody’s lunch table.

Maybe there was green grass somewhere, but right here, right now… there was a picnic to entertain her. Perhaps tomorrow she would try to contact the other cow.