That Time I Conducted an Autopsy Without Any Medical Training

By Emily Franklin
(this appeared in Narratively)

I angle the blade, looking down at the cadaver.

Before I press the scalpel into the body, I pause, swallowing saliva and fear. I don’t belong here.

But I do it anyway, cutting into the skin, which gives way, opening.

“Here we go,” I say.

The medical examiner puts down his crossword puzzle with a huff like I’m interrupting his quiet time. He looks at me, waiting. Does he also wonder what the hell I’m doing here?