That evening, I whispered a
wish into the wind, unaware if the sky would keep it or carry it along. Time passed—long enough for a flicker of
hope to soften at the edges but not quite fade away. And then—like a story writing itself—
he appeared. Not a dream, nor a trick of my memory, but real—feathers ruffled by the very wind that once carried him away. Perhaps the world is a circle, or perhaps some wishes have wings.
Maybe it was the love I sent into the vast unknown that has finally found its way home.
