There was this young mad girl who stopped me on the road and handed me a key, saying, “This is the key to the room where your husband locked up all your unborn children—that’s why you’re barren!”

She didn’t beg for money. She didn’t ask for food. She just stretched forth her hand. There was a rusted, heavy-looking key sitting in her palm.

“Take this key,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly clear and piercing. “It’s the key your husband used to lock all your unborn children. That’s why you can’t give birth! Go and unlock it.”