He stands amid a web of chains and ten-thousand keys.

We look to the stars.

The robots ventured into a polluted world to heal it.

“We’ve got, little chimeras?”

No smell of salt as sails billow in a hot night’s breeze.

I’ve heard red fragment stories: Just one touch. Like magic.

“Can ham roll?” the wizard said. “Roll ham can!”

Her lithe arm embraces him from behind. The other unbinds her hair.