I Wish...

Echoes of a Wish

As the days went by, I fell into a new rhythm. Volunteering at the community center became more than just an obligation—it was a refuge. Every day brought new faces, new stories, and slowly but surely, I started to feel like I was part of something real. Something that wasn't tied to a fleeting wish but grounded in genuine connection.

One afternoon, after a particularly busy day organizing donations, I stepped outside for some air. The sun was starting to set, casting a golden light over the city. It reminded me of those days when I would wish for the perfect sunset, how the sky would paint itself in shades of pink and orange, almost as if it knew what I wanted. But now, standing here, I realized the sunsets I hadn't wished for were just as beautiful—maybe even more so, because they were real.

As I leaned against the brick wall of the center, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a message from Jenna.

"Dinner tomorrow night? My treat this time."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with wishes. It was strange how much had changed between us in such a short time. Repairing our friendship was still a work in progress, but it felt solid, like we were building something from the ground up. I texted back a quick "I'm in" and slipped my phone back into my pocket, a sense of peace settling over me.

But that peace was short-lived. As I turned to head back inside, a familiar figure caught my eye. At first, I thought I was imagining it—maybe a trick of the fading light—but no. There, standing across the street, was Ethel.

She was watching me, her expression unreadable. A small part of me felt a chill run down my spine. What was she doing here? Why hadn't she approached me?

I started to walk toward her, but as soon as I took a step, she turned and disappeared into the crowd. My heart raced. What did it mean? Was she trying to send me a message?

I hurried back inside, trying to shake off the unease. But the rest of the evening, her face lingered in my mind. Something about the way she looked at me, the way she vanished without a word—it gnawed at me.

That night, as I lay in bed, my thoughts circled back to Ethel's warning. Every wish drains a bit of your essence. Had she come to see if I was sticking to my promise? Or was there something more I wasn't seeing? I tossed and turned, sleep evading me as the weight of the unknown pressed down.

By morning, I knew what I had to do. I couldn't wait for answers to fall into my lap. Ethel had appeared for a reason, and I needed to find out why.

After breakfast, I headed back to the neighborhood where I had first met her. It had been weeks since that fateful encounter, but the memory of it still felt fresh—like a crossroads in my life. The small shop where she worked was tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place you'd never notice unless you were looking for it. I wasn't even sure if I would find her there again, but I had to try.

As I approached the door, I hesitated for a moment. What if she didn't want to see me? What if I wasn't ready for whatever she had to tell me? But then I thought about all the changes I had made, the steps I had taken to reclaim my life. I wasn't the same person who had come here weeks ago, desperate for a way out of the mess I had created.

I pushed open the door.

The inside of the shop was just as I remembered it—dimly lit, with the faint smell of incense hanging in the air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with trinkets and oddities that seemed to hum with some kind of energy. And there, behind the counter, was Ethel.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes meeting mine with a knowing gaze.

"I wondered when you'd come back," she said softly, as if she had been expecting me all along.