Sublime

onerous

Colin Greenland’s eight-word mini-story: ‘Aliens disguised as typewriters? I’ve never heard such—’

It felt like diving into an ocean of warm pudding, but it smelled like a slaughterhouse.

pettishly.

trenchant,

She was in his alcove when he got there, a plate of barbecued sturgeon on the table, the abglanz cycling through a face every half second or so, so quickly that the eye could not settle on a feature before it had changed again. Men, women, ephemeral and compelling non-binary concoctions. Some beautiful, others average, some horrid. Were they real p