A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.

And perhaps, a little Starbucks coffee drink, to get the gears turning. Something with caffeine, to make sure she’s firing on all cylinders. But not too much caffeine because when she has more than two shots of espresso, she has a panic attack.

Ekin-Su said she would make the coffee herself.

For Davide had been aloof ever since the recoupling. Although he had picked her, surprisingly enough given the tempestuousness of his disposition, just hours before, something in him seemed loath to do it, to even push her name through his delectable, plump, fuschia-coloured lips. And then Ekin thought, what an evening — as glittering and vital as the night sky in Ankara.

Dear Mr. Kilgore Trout,

Thank you for submitting once again to Nebulous Magazine, and allowing us the opportunity to read your manuscript. Although here at Nebulous we do not enforce a cap on submissions, I hope you do not mind me pointing out the “Maniacs in the Fourth Dimension” marks your thirty-fourth query this quarter.

Do the various humans that I have transformed into pigs over the years count as my dependents?

Of Tender Buttons and Swedish Meatballs…