Working in tech, writing books, and fangirling over sci-fi.
His hand was shaking, making the tiny orange cigarette tip dance like a firework against the grey dawn. “That’s new,” he thought, looking at the tremorous fingers.
By Jane Palash3 years ago in Fiction
“Your lenses on?” Ra shook his head, kicking a piece of red-orange clay with his boot. “Wrists?” He stretched out his pale, sinewy arms that looked naked without a familiar wristband.
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