The doll doesn’t make it to my front door. I find her limp against my woodpile out back a few days after the first cold snap. She’s been rained on, her cloth skin a sodden gray, button eyes damp. “Oh, hello,” she says, with trained brightness. “I do beg your pardon. I seem to be…
The only people riding the Blue Line on a night this cold are people trying to stay alive. I almost didn’t make it onto the train before the doors closed, and I doubt I could’ve lasted till the next one arrived. Two coats, and a scarf—that shit means nothing in this weather. Hungry and tired,…
The steady ticking of the carved wall-clock had always been a part of Mellyn’s world–enough that she hardly noticed it–but now, with the fire’s last light fading toward the long-winter, the implacable rhythm made her heart race. Mellyn glanced its way. Just one last look. In the moment of distraction, her embroidery needle bit into…
In two and half minutes, I’d either become the twelfth certified wormhole pilot or the seventieth-odd loser ripped apart by Jupiter’s storm shear. The decisive moment was speeding up to me. I’d ghost my electricals, coast through the eye of the storm, and slide through the tiny aperture halfway to another world. Even after all…
