Summer was hot in the alley. The noon sun forced those who lived there to disappear into their cool houses. The alley became empty, as if a secret curfew had been declared. But Laila, who was ten years old and wearing a short blue dress, remained in the alley near the door of her home leaning her back against the wall. On his way back to his house, her father saw an old man with unruly hair clinging to his daughter. He drew the knife he had been using to slaughter and cut up sheep in his shop and came at him, raging. The old man lost no time saying in a panting voice that he was lost and was merely asking the way. He was forced to come close to her so that she could hear his faint voice. The father paid no heed, and advanced toward the old man, but Laila cried out in a frightened voice, warning him not to come any closer because the old man was hiding a snake that stirred under his clothes. The father went into a rage and fell upon the old man. His raised knife was trembling, overcome with a mixture of joy, excitement, and alarm, and looking forward to something new, unfamiliar, and different from the necks of lambs and chickens. It plunged headlong in the direction of the old man, and its sharp, wide blade sank into flesh and blood. The knife found it strange that its owner did not cry out “God is great!” as usual.
The men of the alley worked together without talking or making any kind of sound. They put the corpse and the head in a sack made of sturdy cloth and carried it to the shop of the father, who ground the flesh, pulverized the bones, and made sausages that he fed to the many stray dogs and cats. The women worked together, washing the alley with soap and hot water. They washed it so well that the people who lived there took pride for a long time in its cleanliness and its plump cats and dogs.