I once wished on a shooting star. The blasted thing fell to earth and hit me in the head.
I wished, the crying in the middle of the night would stop and it did. The laughter stopped too, but the scent of baby powder still clings to my arms.
As Suzie watched her belly grow, her only hope was that her daughter would be as pretty as she was smart. And this must be where they got the saying, “be careful what you wish for,”—as her daughter was neither.
I wish everyone was wrong.
Pi going on forever and ever just feels so … icky.
I drove past a car accident on the way back from Axedale today.
A car had tailgated me earlier and I had wished they would crash.
I went to the well and wished for true love.
Then I saw a guy in this awesome rocket-powered time machine with mega lasers and I think I wasted my wish.
My wishes make up the little white trails that follow the shooting stars. You see they haven’t come true yet, because they’re still trying to catch up.