"Hello, Betty, take a seat."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"How have you been since Tilly passed away?"

"It's been rough. I'm still producing milk. The farmer steals that each day to sell for profit. I feel used, abused, and lost without my little Tilly."

"You knew it was coming, though. You knew any lambs born would be taken to market."

"Yes, I knew, but it still hurts my heart. Why can't we live our lives as humans do? My husband doesn't seem to care either. All he thinks about is the next sheep he can impregnate."

"This is the way things are, I'm afraid, Betty. Man sees you as a commodity, and Tilly was part of it."

"I loved her. She... she... she was my world. Now her memory is one of pain and anger. Anger that she was murdered and ended up on a dinner plate."

"Would you like some medication to help you with the stress?"

"It won't bring my baby back, will it?"

"No. But—"

"You're the same, Doctor. You're all the same."

"Betty, sit back down. We have another thirty minutes."

"Goodbye..."