Nonfiction
Errick Nunnally

You in Your Headmeats

So…

Maybe you’re up a bit later than normal, even though you know that nowadays a regular sleep cycle does wonders for you. But it’s only because you mixed yourself a very adult cocktail. The kind made entirely of liquors—like a Negroni—and it’s on a good amount of rocks, a drink for sipping, not gulping. There you are: sipping like a responsible adult, watching a bit of TV. You’re on your own since your partner has made a smarter decision than you. They do that. Often. It’s okay though, you can watch some stuff, the sorts of things only you enjoy. Can even skip through to the best parts because you’ve seen it before.

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Short Fiction
Errick Nunnally

Uniform

The phone rang, had been ringing; his family calling early. He relaxed and reached out along the electromagnetic connections in the air, pushing his will across the apartment’s network to open a connection directly into the OsNun CR permanently embedded in his skull. The conductive receiver, buried beneath the layers of carbon filaments and reinforced ceramics that replaced most of his brown skin, buzzed with every word.

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