Today it smells like it’s cold outside, and warm inside. It’s probably just the heaters getting going, but it makes me feel like tea and soup and knitting and blankets and holiday cookies and curling up in my blue chair with a book.
I’m currently reading a SlipStream Anthology: 
It has many short stories that flirt with borders between literary, sci-fi and fantasy subgenres. A conversation from a blog post where several writers debate the definition of “SlipStream,” and whether it’s a necessary term is interspersed.
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