The Bluestocking 2022-23

The diet had gone on for three days when I received the news. A nurse rushed over to me, furious, and reported that a baby in the other wing had gone missing. I almost asked her why she had notified me when my only patient for the past two weeks had been Tarrare. But by the look on her face, I knew why. Two more doctors approached me as I headed for Tarrare’s room. I paid them no attention, knowing exactly what they would say. I opened the door. Tarrare sat quietly on his bed, gnawing on his fingers. “Tarrare, a baby has gone missing in the hospital,” I said. Then I paused, hesitated. Tarrare was looking at me, fingers still hanging from his mouth. For the first time, I

noticed how unexciting the young man was when he wasn’t eating. One of the doctors behind me coughed loudly. I pressed forward. “Did you eat it?”

Tarrare’s face was white as a sheet. Before I could say more, he scrambled out of his bed, tearing out of the room as fast as a bolt of lightning. The doctors yelled something, giving chase. I did not follow. As I stood there, staring at his empty hospital bed, it crossed my mind that I had known he had done it before I even saw him.