Wishing Well

You’ve just had one of the most grueling days of your life when you stumble upon a wishing well. While you don’t typically believe in such things, you need a pick-me-up. So you toss a penny down the well and make a wish. Lo and behold, it comes true.

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2 thoughts on “Wishing Well

  1. RAndersenAuthor

    I swear I didn’t mean to do it. All I did was toss a penny into the well and make a wish. How was I supposed to know it would actually come true?

    It had been a long day—my boss had come in several times with that sour look on his face that made me want to ask if he’d eaten something unpleasant just before he came into my office. Unfortunately, that face didn’t come from indigestion or culinary displeasure. It came with anger and frustration. It came whenever I “messed up.”

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m a solid employee with a serious work ethic and an undeniable competence in my field. But once in a while, you just can’t please the boss no matter what you do. And this was one of those days.

    My boss flung open the door to my office in such a rage that I was momentarily startled by his presence. “Where’s the Miller file,” he roared.

    My hands began to tremble as I reached for the file on my desk. “H—here it is, Mr. Harding.”

    The balding man was turning purple in his anger. He flipped through the pages and found the item he was looking for. He thrust the file so close to my face that I could barely recognize that there was any writing at all on the page. “What’s wrong with this?”

    “Actually, Mr. Harding, I—I can’t see anything,” I stammered as I tried to push the file back a little farther. “What seems to be the problem?”

    “The problem,” he said, enraged, “is that we haven’t received payment! The problem is that this file belongs in small claims court!”

    He threw the file at me. I flinched as it landed on my desk only slightly worse for wear. “Mr. Harding, I spoke to the Millers. It seems that Mrs. Miller’s mother is in the hospi—”

    “I want that money,” he seethed as he leaned over my desk and faced me with his beady black eyes boring holes in my spirit. “And I want it now!”

    As if to punctuate his words, he slammed his enormous hands on the desk before he exited the room and left me there to shake and return the file to its proper order.

    I sighed as I gathered my things and headed for the small claims court.

    That’s when I passed the small well. I paused for a moment, reached into my pocket and pulled out a penny. I held it for a moment as I closed my eyes. It was a childhood tradition that I wouldn’t pass up—even for an abusive employer.

    I wish I could just start over.

    I flicked the penny into the pool as a soft breeze ruffled through the trees.

    Before I knew it, I was back at my desk. There, as before, was the Miller file. And there, once again, came my livid employer.

    I closed my eyes in resignation. “Just kill me now.”