The Novels

A novel about the things we swallow to keep the people we love from drowning.

The mugs hung in the drying rack the way she’d placed them — handles aligned, a small thing she did without thinking that Eli had never once noticed and Hector had commented on exactly once, years ago, standing in this same kitchen in a bathrobe, saying: You line them up like evidence.

A man discovers his wife is a spy. Then he discovers the company he works for is what she’s been hunting.

Jake opened his eyes to the back of Gina’s head and sixty pounds of pitbull and decided, not for the first time, that the rules about the bed had been a conceptual error.

Something shaped like a person appeared in the negative space between galaxies. Then it learned to move.

The night shift belonged to the machines. Racks of servers whispered in their refrigerated trenches, neon status LEDs blinking a lullaby that only hardware could love. Mira Patel slipped past them like an intruder in her own lab coat, badge dangling from a frayed lanyard, sneakers soft against the epoxy floor.