Author
Gwendolyn Clare
The Dying Season
Paz took the measurements twice. Nicolai stood by the entrance, watching, and if she finished too quickly he would accuse her of carelessness, so she frowned thoughtfully at the handheld's screen and jabbed at buttons to make her analysis look official. Not that she needed the…
Iron Oxide Red
I was working on a still-life when I discovered the paint in my veins. I had gotten down the pale wood background of the butcher-block, the slick sheen of spilled juice, two half-spheres of a bisected orange, and the folded husks of its spent sisters. The suggestion of a white…
Iron Oxide Red
I was working on a still-life when I discovered the paint in my veins. I had gotten down the pale wood background of the butcher-block, the slick sheen of spilled juice, two half-spheres of a bisected orange, and the folded husks of its spent sisters. The suggestion of a white…