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Abstract

I wash my hands, pick up a pair of purple forearm gloves, and gown up in an apron. The large overhead lights flood the room with sterile illumination, reflecting off the metal cabinets onto the white walls. I approach one of the thirty-four body bags with a group of classmates. The slow growl of the zipper fills the otherwise silent room. We pull back the formaldehyde-soaked sheet to reveal our cadaver. We all notice the rose tattoo on her chest.

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