The blood of a turnip


A turnip, a stone, and my right hand have the same thing in common — you can’t get blood from any of them. Also, I have no future as a hand model.

It has been a year since our exodus from Florida. Overall, we’ve managed to survive in Mississippi, and my husband has thrived in the job that brought us here. Despite this milestone, I’ve had to confront another reminder of how I still don’t belong here, and likely never will.

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