Emily Taylor

One of those days when it doesn’t hurt—just aches. At the bus stop near the old market square in Leeds

**How I Hated Her…** A slightly crumpled note lay in her desk drawer—right beside her resignation letter.

**A Difficult Decision. The Return** “Fly if you want to,” Edward said, setting his mug in the sink.

**How I Loathed Her…** A slightly crumpled sheet lay in her desk drawer—right beside her resignation letter.

THE CANDLE IN THE WIND Dr. Eleanor Whitmore peeled off her latex gloves and surgical mask, tossing them

The “Defective” Father For as long as I can remember, Mum and I were stuck in the same endless loop.

**A Candle in the Wind** Elizabeth Margaret removed her latex gloves and surgical mask, dropping them

The Difficult Decision. A Return “Go on then, fly if you want,” said Oliver, setting his

“I’m Not a Carer” “Natasha, I’ve got some bad news,” Alex lowered

**The Flawed Father** For as long as I can remember, Mum and I lived the same monotonous cycle.