Milo Finch slouched on a park bench, his rumpled suit a reminder of better days. He absently swirled the dregs of a cheap coffee while scanning job listings on his phone. Nothing. Six months since he’d been unceremoniously axed from his cushy analyst gig, and the closest he’d come to employment was a soul-crushing interview at a big box store. A fluttering commotion drew his gaze. An older woman in a flowing floral dress was scattering birdseed, surrounded by a swarm of cooing pigeons. Milo snorted. Feeding vermin - that’s about all he was qualified for these days. ...

Mara’s brush hovered over the canvas, trembling slightly as she stared at the blank expanse before her. The farmhouse creaked and settled around her, a symphony of unfamiliar noises that still set her on edge after three months. She closed her eyes, willing inspiration to come, but found only the same foggy blankness that had plagued her since moving here. With a frustrated sigh, she set down her brush and palette. The easel stood accusingly in the corner of her studio, a reminder of her creative drought. Mara wandered to the window, gazing out at the rolling fields bathed in late afternoon sunlight. The view was breathtaking, exactly what she’d hoped for when she’d impulsively purchased this isolated property. A fresh start, far from the bustle and painful memories of the city. ...

The fluorescent lights flickered to life, casting a harsh glow over the maze of gray cubicles. Mira Chen stifled a yawn as she settled into her chair, the familiar creak a reminder of another day trapped in corporate purgatory. She glanced at her monitor, the cursor blinking accusingly on a half-finished spreadsheet. “Morning, sunshine,” Denise Wong chirped, popping her head over the partition. “Ready for another thrilling day of data crunching?” ...

The scorching desert sun beat down mercilessly as Nadia stepped out of her dusty rental car. She squinted against the glare, surveying the ramshackle collection of buildings that comprised the remote town of Al-Safiya. A tumbleweed rolled lazily across the cracked pavement of the town’s lone main street. Nadia sighed, already regretting her decision to take on this assignment. As she hefted her luggage from the trunk, a voice called out, “You must be the geologist from the mining company!” ...

The chalk squeaked against the blackboard as Mrs. Abernathy’s spidery handwriting filled the green expanse. Eliza Pearce hunched lower in her seat, willing herself to disappear. All around her, the scritch-scratch of pencils on paper mingled with whispers and the occasional muffled giggle. She kept her eyes fixed on her own pristine notebook, unmarked except for the careful lettering of her name in the top corner. “Now then, who can tell me the answer to question three?” Mrs. Abernathy’s voice cut through the classroom buzz. ...

Mira’s rental car crawled up the winding mountain road, each turn revealing another breathtaking vista of snow-capped peaks and plunging valleys. She should have felt awe, wonder, maybe even a spark of joy at the majestic landscape. Instead, a dull emptiness gnawed at her core, as it had for months now. The quaint town of Everdale came into view, a cluster of rustic buildings nestled in a high alpine meadow. Mira pulled into the gravel lot of the Pinewood Lodge, cut the engine, and sat motionless for several long moments. With a deep sigh, she finally gathered her resolve and stepped out into the crisp mountain air. ...

The squeak of sneakers on polished linoleum echoed through the hallway as Ethan navigated the maze of his new high school. He clutched a crumpled schedule in one hand, eyes darting between room numbers and the sea of unfamiliar faces streaming past. The bell rang, sending a jolt of panic through him. Late on his first day. Perfect. Ethan skidded to a stop outside room 237, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. Two dozen pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at him. ...

Mara Chen leaned against the railing of the research vessel, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the deep blue of the Pacific met the fading orange of the sunset. The salt-laden breeze whipped strands of her dark hair across her face, but she made no move to brush them away. Her mind was elsewhere, lost in the mysteries that lay beneath the gently rolling waves. “You’re gonna turn into a statue if you keep standing there like that, missy,” a gruff voice called from behind her. ...

Zara Voss squinted at the holographic display, its ethereal glow casting dancing shadows across her face. She adjusted a dial, and the shimmering cityscape before her warped and twisted, buildings stretching impossibly tall before collapsing in on themselves like a fantastical house of cards. “Damn it,” she muttered, running a hand through her unkempt dark hair. The lab around her was a mess of tangled wires and humming machines, littered with half-empty coffee cups and crumpled notes. She’d lost track of how many hours—days?—she’d been working on this latest project. ...

The sharp clack of Mira Chen’s heels echoed through the empty school hallway as she strode toward the debate team’s classroom. Her ponytail swung in rhythm with each determined step, a metronome keeping time with her racing thoughts. Today was the day - new recruits, new season, new chance to prove herself. She paused at the door, smoothing her blazer and taking a deep breath. Show time. Mira swept into the room with a bright smile, immediately locking eyes with Ms. Holloway. The debate coach gave an approving nod as she scanned Mira’s crisp, professional attire. ...