Size / / /

When you left your body lying around

You must have known I'd borrow it.

Mere curiosity would force me.

So—what was it like?

Hmm. Where to start?

The world looked fuzzy

Until I put your glasses on

instead of mine.

A bit heavy on the nose and ears,

have you thought of lighter frames?

It was pretty odd feeling air

on my head, instead of hair;

I mean, I'd put my hand up to neaten my curls, and

there

was no hair there.

The face in the mirror was more familiar than my own,

Except that I'm not used to meeting it in mirrors.

How frequently do you think I look in mirrors, anyway?

Everything seemed a tiny bit shorter,

especially that bookcase when I put the books

back up.

The pans in the kitchen weighed a little less.

I seemed a bit more clumsy, though.

Maybe you really should do more around the house.

The mouse felt smaller in my hand.

And the fifth stair creaked when I stepped on it.

It's never done that before.

I liked not bothering with a bra.

Those other bits were kind of awkward

Until I got them adjusted.

Must be a nuisance doing that every day,

Especially since they're so sensitive.

I totally get why you fuss so much about good

underwear.

I walked really carefully in the beginning.

Talking of sensitive, umm, well, yes, it was great

No, just by myself, of course I wouldn't be

unfaithful!

So, yes, it was super.

But the reload time . . . well, takes a while, doesn't it?

Your nails were a bit of a mess,

And your skin so dry.

I took it in for a facial and a manicure.

Calm down! I brought it back, didn't I,

In better shape than when I took it.

What do you mean, cooties?




A peripatetic writer of speculative fiction, Keyan Bowes has lived in seven countries and now calls the US West Coast home. With over forty published pieces, her work can be found in a dozen print anthologies and in magazines such as Strange Horizons, Escape Pod, Worlds of Possibility, and Flame Tree Press. Clarion graduate, SFWA member. Website: www.keyanbowes.com
Current Issue
16 Mar 2026

The garden is the resting place of your vulnerabilities; there’s a reason you’ve left them here instead of carrying them with you. Typically you enter hardened and hurried, beelining straight for the correct plot and quickly releasing whatever is clutched in your hand without a second thought—today, an attempted weaving of leather and lace, strength and suppleness that your body cannot figure out how to wear, nor your words to narrate.
If you say there are rats, I will believe you, though I don’t hear or see them.
A ruffling of branches as they resettle for the night. We dare not ask why they are here.
Spec Fic and the Politics of Identity 
As part of a collective of African writers who have created an Afrocentric Sauútiverse of five planets, two suns and a spirit moon, a world of science and fantasy, where there is no written language, we play with technology and sound magic to scrutinise the world as we know it, and use speculative fiction as a response to our world. 
Wednesday: Witchcraft for Wayward Girls by Grady Hendrix 
Friday: When Among Crows and To Clutch a Razor by Veronica Roth 
Issue 9 Mar 2026
By: Lio Abendan
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Strange Horizons
2 Mar 2026
Strange Horizons invites non-fiction submissions for our March 30 special issue on “Fungi in SFF.”
Issue 2 Mar 2026
Strange Horizons
Issue 23 Feb 2026
Issue 16 Feb 2026
Issue 9 Feb 2026
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By: Natasha King
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
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