Fiction | March 01, 2004

This story is not currently available online.

My mother and husband died nineteen days apart, and the next time I put on shoes it was four months later.  The cable was disconnected, yellowing newspapers were logjammed on the porch and Brisket and Chervil had hunkered down with Sonya next door in the name of reliable food.

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.

SEE THE ISSUE

SUGGESTED CONTENT