Anthology of short fiction

Life Sentence

Ziah touched the pictures, printed and bound. Pictures of her with Pete. God, she missed him. Of them and the house, her growing belly, in a field with her daughter. She'd made the choice. Made her work more important than her family. She regretted it. But, there was no turning back. Ziah inhaled. Tossing the book aside, she grabbed her helmet. On duty soon, Ziah put it on, zipped her shirt, pressed the underlining seal. Waiting in the chamber, imagining her daughter, playing, growing up, waving in her wedding dress, Ziah waved back. Swoosh. Ziah stepped out into Mars' atmosphere.