Fiction | March 01, 1997

Winner of the 1997 Jeffrey E. Smith Editors’ Prize for Fiction.

This story is available via the PDF link below.

My apartment sits above a liquor store in a questionable part of town.  I delight in telling this because it suggests a degree of daring, a worldliness I cannot claim, as though I keep a Harley out back or red shoes in my closet.  I fantasize that I will one day be as fascinating as my apartment, but this is unlikely.

“The Oboist” by Anne Miano

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