After The Reason sent that email, my appetite left, completely, for the first time in more than twenty years, and it was only then I could viscerally remember what faith had felt like—this bright feeling in the nerves, a sense of being porous and airy. Reality was clear. Death was an illusion. I stood in our kitchen where I had cooked and eaten a thousand meals, and was unable to eat a piece of toast, as its texture and smell were an affront, somehow, a noxious torture where there had once been comfort.