The ocean is a woman and it is dreaming, dreaming, Ekaterina thinks as she holds the hardsuit’s arm open, ready to clip a sample.

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io The sky is crowded with ghosts. They pilot ships named after our rivers: Indus, Euphrates, Danube, Mississippi, Amazon, Tigris, Nile. My daughter’s is the Potomac, which she says is ironic and self-referential. via Pocket Thistledown Sky, by Stephen Case | Shimmer via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2XOsEaD

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io The time traveler’s husband leaves cups of tea throughout the too-empty apartment, waiting for his wife to come home. Sometimes — hours or days later — he finds the mugs drained, bearing the ghost imprint of lips, dregs staining the ceramic in dark,… The Time Traveler’s Husband, by A.C. Wise | Shimmer via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2XMHUES

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Grandmother’s rocking chair is made of iron. It is rust and death and blood. Grandmother’s rocking chair sits in the middle of the porch so that she can watch me and pet her turtle. Tortoise, really. It is as old as Grandmother and waits patiently b… Rust and Bone, by Mary Robinette Kowal | Shimmer via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2XN9PEz

via FREE Fiction / Raindrop.io https://raindrop.io Salvage is the only long-term game in the universe. No tyrant of the star-nets or titan of trade ever admired a salvage crew; we’re the crows on their trash-heaps, the rats in their walls. via Pocket Ghosts of Bari, by Wren Wallis | Shimmer via Instapaper https://ift.tt/2SVcnN8