Short Fiction
Iori Kusano

Have Mercy, My Love, While We Wait for the Thaw

The residents here are used to our visits now. Seeing us arrive doesn’t draw the stares it once did. I’d been surprised we were recognized at all, but a space colony is never so big as it first seems. Even the people who never saw the vids of Rhodan’s squadron shackled and loaded into trucks, the awful stills of me standing wooden-faced behind my mother at her inauguration, know who we are.

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Short Fiction
Iori Kusano

Next Station, Shibuya

You didn’t mean to do it but the rumble of the train stretched around your shoulders like an arm, spiraled deliciously down your spine. You were alone in the car and your reflection flickered in the window across the aisle. The city lights on the other side of the glass sparkled like stray glitter dusted over your face.

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