On Lia Purpura's "Autopsy Report":
Obviously we don't all want to write about death, naming what it is that killed a person, what the dead body looks like, what dead bodies en masse waiting for the knife look like, how "our skin [is] not at all the boundary we're convinced of as we bump into each other," because, in the end, "[we open] easily" (410). But what Purpura gives us (or my reading of one of the many grains she gives us) is access to a mystery, something we might not have even realized we were curious about. I've never before tried to imagine the details of an autopsy, but Purpura goes in and reports back images I wouldn't have conjured up even if I had thought to try. Never would I have conceived of "[laughing] out loud" at first sight of the bodies either, but what Purpura gives us is the unexpected (406). And she's able to give us that moment because she surprises herself and is willing to share that moment.
So, I'll offer a prompt based on that last little bit:
Conversely to Purpura's unexpected and genuine laugh, is there a moment that you know without a doubt that you overreacted, either that your elevated emotion was fabricated because you felt it was expected or that you unexpectedly went all teary eyed at an otherwise carefree moment. She made an awkward admission, and I think this prompt might lead us to something similar and equally pen-worthy.
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