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Nashville: March 3, 2020
The night of the tornado, I let you sleep. I let you stay caught in restless dreams beneath the thin blankets, the taut shape of your body like the land beneath a dusting of snow. You pulled the sheet over your head. You were a ridgeline, a burial mound. I made the bed around you and sat by the window.The State Fair
Four teenage girls lived at the group home where I worked in my twenties. They went to public school, made friends, and sometimes did typical teenage things like go to prom or try out for the tennis team.Serving
There were warnings. There were no warnings. Slipping into my black boots and olive flight suit, braiding my hair, pressing my name tag on my breast, zipping my B-4 bag, kissing Cowboy goodbye, I was leaving.Bad News 101
Empathy training helps medical students sit with uncertaintyIssue 77
Shrapnel
Writing can be a way of processing traumatic events, but it can also cause its own kind of distress. The coeditor of a book about school shootings considers the cost of "holding the pain."Issue 77
Renovations
The necessary folly of rebuilding a home in a world on fireIssue 77
Do I Die Today?
A pilot remembers the fear of wartime flights over the Ho Chi Minh trailIssue 77
Misery & Company
Celebrity funerals, social media condolences, roadside memorials, and more: tracing the history of how we experience loss—and how we share it.Issue 77
Behold Invisibility
The explosive force beneath New York City's steam cloudsIssue 77
Ongoingness
The fragile tenacity of house moths and other creaturesIssue 77