Emily Taylor

**Unlatched Windows** Emily heard her own voice for the first time in months. It came out hoarse, stifled

Open Windows Emily heard her own voice for the first time in months. It came out hoarse, stifled, as

It felt hollow, yet it meant everything. Vera rode the number 73 bus through the snow-covered streets

Every morning at precisely 7:45, Albert stepped out of his worn-down council flat in the outskirts of

**A Daughter No One Was Meant to Know** I never felt guilty for simply being born. Yet the weight of

**The Daughter No One Was Supposed to Know About** Emily never felt guilty for simply being born.

Every morning at precisely 7:45, Albert stepped out of his weathered postwar flat in the outskirts of Norwich.

Julia heard her own voice for the first time in months. It came out hoarse, strained, like it had fought

“Almost Alright—But Only Almost” “Running late again?” Andrew’s voice on the

“John, a christening in a restaurant? And now we have to buy a gift? Let’s just visit the next