11:11

wish seventeen

     The stars illuminated the night, peeking through the cloaks of darkness and the pressure of the city lights.

     “I wished for you,” she whispered, so quietly that he raised his head, trying to catch the emotions pouring out of the letters.

     “Really? How does it feel like to place your hope on something you can’t touch? I have never made a wish in my life.” His eyes were drawled to the skies above him as he caught a glimpse of a runaway star.

     “You’re silly; everybody wishes for something.”

     Once those words showed their vibrancy in the starry night, he put enough space between the two lost souls to look at her in the eyes.

     “Oh, but not me. Instead of betraying my heart and making deceiving wishes at once, I save them all up. Birthday candles, my breaths in tunnels, wishbones, the specks of dandelions, lucky pennies, shooting stars, eyelashes, ladybugs, the clock’s ticks and tocks when it hits 11:11. I figured if I saved them up, later on, I’d get to make a million. By now, the constellations owe me one hundred wishes.”