Fiction | February 01, 2018
The First to Leave Is the Winner
Becky Mandelbaum
For a brief period in my late twenties, I lived alone on a horse ranch at 9,500 feet in the San Juan Mountains. The closest human heartbeat was thirteen miles away, the nearest airport two hundred. The altitude gave me vertigo and headaches and months of spectacular, disturbing dreams, but it was worth it for the sky, which was grandiose and constantly changing, a lava lamp let loose of its goblet. Never had I seen a sky like that, and I haven’t seen one since. Granted, I haven’t been looking.
This story is not currently available online.
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
Jan 07 2022
Pineland
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… read more
Fiction
Jan 07 2022
Reclamation
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… read more
Fiction
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… read more