Emily's Publishing

Jenna Matthews stared at the blank canvas in front of her, her paintbrush dancing in the air with indecision. The smell of oils and turpentine wafted through her tiny studio apartment-a scent that should have been comforting by now, but for the first time in years, was not. She let her breath out in a sad sigh as she lowered the brush without having made a mark. At 32, Jenna was once touted as a rising star in Seattle's art world. Her dynamic, emotionally-charged paintings received critical acclaim and got her a hallelujah chorus of their own fans. But that was before... everything. Her phone buzzed. Another well-meaning text from Alison: "Hey sis, just checking in, how's the new piece coming?" Jenna's fingers hovered over the keys. She could lie, say it was going great. Instead she simply replied: "Still working on it." It had been eight months since the accident. Eight months since a patch of black ice sent her car spinning off the road leaving her wit...

Dr. Zara Malik, 38, sat mesmerized by the lines of code scrolling down each of her various monitors, the soft blue glow of the screens illuminating her face in the dimly lit lab. Outside, the fog rolled in off the San Francisco streets, obscuring the twinkling city lights. "Come on, ARIA," Zara whispered, flying fingers across the keyboard. "Show me what you've got." ARIA was the brainchild of Zara, an AI meant to break grounds in personalized medicine. After years of development, they were at the threshold of a discovery that could change millions of lives. But great power comes with great responsibility, something which bothered Zara's mind as she worked late into the night. A soft ding on her smartwatch broke her concentration. A reminder: "Dad's birthday – call!" Zara sighed, guilt gnawing at her. She'd forgotten. Again. Pushing back from her desk, she grabbed her phone and dialed. " Beta!", her father boomed from the line. ...

The rigid fluorescent lights above hummed in the prison visiting room where Olivia Chen, 35, sat up straight, her hands clasped firmly in her lap. Across the metal table-marred from all the use - sat Marcus Delgado, 40 - a separation between them, a chasm of pain and regret. "I didn't think you'd come," Marcus said softly, his eyes cast down to the surface of the table. Olivia's jaw clenched. "I almost didn't." It was five years since the night that turned Olivia's world upside down; the night when drunken Marcus ran a red light and took the life of Olivia's fiancé, David. The accident had left so much more than physical scars; it seemed to have carved a void in her life that hate and bitterness had hastened to fill. Olivia had clung to her anger for years, a lifeline in the dark sea she'd swum. Fantasies of confrontation, of making him feel even a fraction of that pain she carries. But now, face-to-face with the man who'd taken every...