Fiction | March 01, 2007

This story is not currently available online.

The wind lifted.  The sky above Sandro’s head was filled with a flurry of little yellow leaves.  Frantically airborne, they resisted for one last instant the inevitability of the fall.  Sandro sat on a wooden bench, his elbows resting on the picnic table behind him, and gazed up at the sudden pandemonium.

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.