Fiction | September 01, 1981

This story is not currently available online.

His dog had bitten a child.  It was very late in the afternoon when Ted Landy stepped into the kitchen, closed the back door, and took off his gloves.  “I’ve seen the boy,” he said.  “It doesn’t look good.”

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.