She clutched the dandelion in her hands so tightly the stem frayed, the green bleeding onto her tiny, hopeful, fingers.
Make a wish, she thought, anything in the world: angel wings, super powers, cotton candy melting in your mouth.
As the kids around her sprouted wings and soared, she whispered her own desire, inhaled slowly and blew.
Parachutes of white filled the sky and she closed her eyes to open them to a mirror.
Her reflection breathtaking, a princess dressed in ruffles, blonde curls cascading, a crown atop her head.
To the Wish's dismay, she frowned, dissatisfied with the four poster luxury bed and jewels.
So her eyelids fluttered and closed, wishing again for her desire to be fulfilled.
She awoke to the softness of pillows and toys, a mountain for her.
But again she frowned at the stuffed bear, and closed her eyes.
The Wish desperately searched for something, anything, to fulfill her desire.
Candies, parades, unicorns, riches- her...
“Next question. Are you an only child?”
A blink and I’m back. The covers pulling away. Calloused, yet soft hands cupping my cheeks. The moon light illuminating her bruises and eyes, emerald like mine.
“I’m getting out,” she says quietly.
“I go too.”
“No. I’ll be back for you,” she smiles sadly, “love ya.” Clap, high five, repeat, spin, and hug.
“Always.” I whisper. A kiss on my forehead. The creak of the window, a rush of cool air, then the quietness of the house. I trusted her. I still trust her ten years later.
I recite my line.“Yes.”