They turned toward the closest tube station outside the vet clinic, their breaths puffing dragon-like in the cold air.
“I could commit war crimes for a cigarette right now,” Justin muttered, huddling into his coat.
“Cigarette? I thought you were a vaper.”
Justin sighed. “The vaping is supposed to help me quit. My New Year’s resolution last year was to quit smoking, see. So, I’ve spent the last three days desperately pretending I can still pull it off before the end of the year.” He gave Miguel a sidewayslook. “I’m probably even bitchier than usual tonight, due to that.” It had the air of an apology.
Miguel smiled wryly. “Broken resolutions. I know how that goes. This year I’ve managed to break my New Year’s resolution before the new year even started.”
“I don’t think that’s how resolutions work,” Justin said.
They were walking past a bar; inside, people with goofy year-numbered glasses and hats were cheering and clustering around the TV screens, which showed footage of Times Square and the traditional descending ball. They both stopped to watch.
“What was the resolution?” Justin asked.
“Five! Four! Three!”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Two! One!”
“Tell me now,” Justin said, and Miguel kissed him.
Justin’s lips were cold at first, but warmed quickly under his, Justin’s gloved hands fumbling with Miguel’s coat to pull him closer. He kissed Miguel back in an artless, innocent, almost clumsy way that was as unexpected as it was charming, and he kept his eyes closed for a second after Miguel finally—reluctantly—pulled back.
“Happy New Year,” Miguel said, leaning their foreheads together.
Justin tried to speak, cleared his throat, tried again. “Happy New Year. What were you about to tell me?”
“That Sean’s New Year’s Eve party is cursed. I’m really glad I decided to come.”
“You,” Justin said, “do not make any sense. I like that about you.” He pulled Miguel in for another kiss, and Miguel was happy to oblige.
Only the Best Lesbian in Space by Eule Grey
My journey into time travel began with a new job. The familiar urge to dive under my bed instead of setting out into space was intense. Before leaving, I made sure to tickle Fluffy’s tummy. “Got to go. First day in my new job, puss. Wish me luck.”
He meowed softly in response. Talking to him made me feel I had someone waiting at the end of what would be a long and trying first day. “See you later.”
Outside my space home, life waited with grabby, spiteful hands. Lights, lights, lights, red cables, zooming bodies and a million glittering stars stretched into the vast expanse of space.
I grabbed a connector from the cable above my pod and attached it firmly to my waist. After igniting the grid reference, I set off into space via a complicated grid of red lines.
The cables were busy with commuters and families hurtling to their day’s destinations like colourful sweet wrappers illuminating the ancient darkness. Some wore cool, individualised connectors. Others, like me, clung to ordinary terra-flexi strips, which served as both a seat and a journey planner.
A kid in front of me dropped a shoe—an unfortunate yet common occurrence. The floating red boot caught my attention, and then I couldn’t look away. Already, I was homesick and longed to turn back to Fluffy. If I made it through the first day at my new job, I’d start befriending landmarks on the journey. The Shimmer Library and icicle rink weren’t replacements for real friends, but they were better than nothing.
Too soon, I arrived at my new employment, Space End’s Funeral Parlour. I was surprised to find the place shockingly tacky, with flashing false flowers attached to the building, and awful eighties songs blaring into the galaxy.
My panic had turned to the numb state my mum used tocall rabbit-headlights. Hands shaking, I rang the blare-flare.
A bright pink bot opened the door-glider. “Yeah?” it demanded, in an extremely deep voice.
“Ur hi. I filled in an on-cable application and was successful. I’m due to start work today. My name is…”
The bot pushed me rather rudely inside. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.
