"She looked down at her own half-eaten steak and suddenly saw it as a hunk of muscle. Blood red. Part of a real cow that once moved and ate and was killed, knocked on the head as it stood in queue like someone waiting for a streetcar. Of course everyone knew that. But most of the time you never thought about it. In the supermarket they had it all pre-packaged in cellophane, with name-labels and price-labels stuck on it, and it was just like buying a jar of peanut-better or a can of beans, and even when you went into a butcher it was made clean, official. But now it was suddenly flesh and blood, rare, and she had been devouring it. Gorging herself on it.
She set down her knife and fork. She felt that she had turned rather pale, and hoped that Petter wouldn't notice. "This is ridiculous," she lectured herself. "Everyone eats cows, it's natural; you have eat to stay alive, meat is good for you, it has lots of proteins and minerals." She picked up her fork, speared a piece, lifted it, and set it down again."