As with Best Short Story, I’m not going to record my own preferences, just the fact that I’ve read this category.

“Bots of the Lost Ark”, by Suzanne Palmer. Second paragraph of third section:

Before it left the bot repository, it visited the shellfab unit for reconfiguration. Speed and agility were important, so it added external rotors in a foldable X configuration to its chassis, upgraded its connection utilities, and onboarded a second communications receiver and a half-dozen other repair and maintenance modules it was likely to need. At last, after consideration, it added a small electrified probe and shielding. It did not like the thought that it might find itself in hostile opposition to its fellow bots, but from the history logs Ship had given it access to, there was a 93 percent probability that it was unavoidable.

“Colors of the Immortal Palette”, by Caroline M. Yoachim. Second paragraph of third section (“Chrome Yellow”):

The immortal artist—and yes, I am sufficiently petty not to name him even now, for his artistic legacy does not need more help from me than I have already given—is here at the Salon, of course, though I am pleased to note that despite him having taken part in perhaps a hundred Salons, the hanging committee has placed his work poorly. Not at the ceiling, quite, but high enough to strain the neck should anyone wish an extended viewing.

L’Esprit de L’Escalier, by Catherynne M. Valente. Second paragraph of third section:

Whatever comfortable has come to mean for either of them.

“O2 Arena”, by Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki. Second paragraph of third section:

We had a plethora of assignments and projects that kept us buried to our eyebrows, even on weekends. But assignments were rarely my concern on weekdays, much less weekends. And on this weekend, Ovoke was gone.

“That Story Isn’t the Story”, by John Wiswell. Second paragraph of third section:

Grigorii drops the yellow sketch pad in Anton’s lap along with a few colored pencils. “Literally had these leftover for ten years. Can you believe it? They waited for you.”

“Unseelie Brothers, Ltd.”, by Fran Wilde. Second paragraph of third section:

The Lighting Gown shocked a dancer’s escort. The Ocean and Moon Gown seemed to grow heavier on Odelle until she had to sit down. She was found drenched in the restrooms, but alive, much later. Dora’s sharp laughter echoed in the empty store.