Melissa D. Johnston
CategoryTWO KARAMAZOV BROTHERS, HOPE, AND RADICAL SUFFERING
By Melissa D. Johnston
Family lore has it that on a slow, winding and climbing trip home through the Appalachian mountains my dad looked into the rear view mirror of his golden Grand Prix and saw his less-than-a-year-old daughter crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I pointed. “Bunny dead.” ..
STIGMA. OWN IT.
By Melissa D. Johnson
It’s always the same. I exit the parking garage, walk straight to the lab, hold out my arm, and surrender blood. The lab tech asks me how school’s going. I say “Fine.” She pulls the needle out, replaces it with a small but messy pile of gauze, and tops it off with a Scooby..