So you want my story. Or you think you do.
Kate was there when the shards burst through her nephew’s skin.
Nothing left but gold.
When I notice someone, Mr. Yoshiba in this case, from a distance, I do what I always do. I feign poor eyesight.
The Esperanza was doomed. The generation ship moaned as it tore apart module by module, plate by plate.
The eyeless children appeared outside my cottage at midnight, blowing bubbles through their wands, bubbles that reflected moonlight...
Space is loud, crowded with the teeth grinding of radio galaxies, the whine of accretion disks spinning dust into strings.
1.8 billion miles from the sun, my roots dig deep into the soil of a small garden.
The first time our eyes met, I wanted to put them in my mouth.
