"Why do you guys let me hang around? I'm not one of you."
"When you're outcasts like us, don't matter where you come from."
I remembered that conversation as we sprinted through the streets. Ten of us, lepers all. There was no community for us except each other. I don't remember how I ended up with them, but I was always acutely aware that I was the outsider. I saw the disgust when we came into town and then disgust heaped upon disgust when people saw me. I was worried the others would turn on the Samaritan. Abandon me. Those words assured me: None of that matters when you're already an outcast.