personal essay

Dear Ms. Wren, I am not addressing you by your real name, but I chose…

It was a bitter morning in San Francisco when it happened, mist rising above the…

I am a puppet. Invisible strings attach my arms around the blankets and my eyelids…

I stood beneath my attending’s towering frame. My knees were buckling from standing and the…

The morning prayer at the hospital had always been an innocuous part of the day…