“Miss, are you you sick?” “Yes, I am.” “I can tell because your neck is red.” I didn’t have the energy or, quite frankly, composure to tell an 11-year-old student that my obnoxious cold has nothing to do with why I’m a red, blotchy disaster. At 44 months T.S.W. and succumbing to the plague that… Continue reading The Threadless Labyrinth