Short Fiction
E.K. Wagner

Whose Mortal Taste

It occurred to Tanager I that the humans were not dead, by their hopeful definition, but rather in stasis.

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Short Fiction
E.K. Wagner

I Remember Your Face

She scrabbled in the dirt, sifting through dust piles, raising turrets and smashing castles. Her hands were coated with grime, the mud dark in the lines of her palms. Pushing her skirt up around her thighs, she examined her socks, gray with grit. She crouched down closer to the earth, and pressed both hands, fingers spread out, into the impressionable ground.

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