Fiction | September 01, 2001
Alice in Dairyland
When the phone rang, I was in bed inder the covers, trying to stay warm. As I ran to answer, I saw that it was snowing again. I’d been in Wisconson, America’s frozen dairy land, nearly six years, so I should have been used to it, but I was a Florida girl at heart, and each took me by suprise. “Alice Anne?” a voice said. My name came out slurred, like it was Allison.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?Subscribe Today
SEE THE ISSUE
Jan 07 2022
PinelandJason Brown 1966 Dear Lemuel, For me, all the consequential decisions are in the past, except, as you will see, the decision to write this letter. You may rest assured
Jan 07 2022
ReclamationDevin Murphy My whole life I’ve had this feeling at my core that people wouldn’t remember me from one meeting to the next and was surprised, even touched, if they
Jan 06 2022
The Last Reported Sighting of the European Goldfinch
The Last Reported Sighting of the European Goldfinch in MichiganDavid M. Sheridan When my friend Essa said, some years ago, that she had become a “birder,” I couldn’t place the