Fiction | June 01, 2009
Praha
Jeffrey Condran
The full text of this story is not currently available online.
I will never forget, no matter how long I live, the feeling I experienced when I landed a jab to the base of Mansour’s nose, the sudden blossom of blood that issued forth, the disbelieving look on his face that totally eclipsed that first look of surprise on discovering me with his wife.
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 TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Fiction
Dec 11 2020
Murphy, Murphy
Murphy, Murphy One of my names is Cece. It has many iterations. When scolded, Cecelia. At my worst, Cecelia Rose. In bed, I am named to the rhythm of my… read more
Fiction
Dec 11 2020
Not All That White
Not All That White Everyone on the raising gang notices when the journeyman connector, Joseph Bogoslavsky, reaches into his fifty-pound leather tool belt for four massive bolts and then sinks… read more
Fiction
Dec 11 2020
Way Back, Well Before My Divorce
Way Back, Well before My Divorce There was this other thing that happened. Or really two things bundled. While visiting my then girlfriend’s older sister in New York City, I… read more