The cookie cupped in his open palms was crisp and fragile. One wish, he was told as it was pressed into his hands as thanks for stopping a mugging, it will give you one wish, any wish. So here he sat curled on a damp rooftop, alone, and contemplating his fate. It was just a cookie. Just a little flour and sugar, folded into a crescent shape... What did he have to be afraid of? The words can't have meant anything because wishes were magic and magic didn't exist in a world as cruel as this. Except he knew that it did …

One wish … If he could have one wish what would it be? Silly question really, the answer was obvious, it had haunted him every moment of every day for more than the past decade. What would his parents think of him now? He lives so differently now to how he was originally raised. What would they think of him living in one place, giving up showmanship, his trust fund, and his "night job"? Was his father really as tall as he remembered or would they stand the same height now? What did his mother's laugh sound like? He couldn't remember anymore. How would that life look like to his eyes now that they weren't painted in the shades of gold of being eight years old? What would his parents think of him as the man he was now instead of their little boy?

His eyes were getting wet and he closed them, it's just the rain again, he told himself, the sun never comes here anymore. What he wouldn't give for one more day in the sun? If he had one wish … "I wish I could go back, as I am now, and see my parents again." The little cookie gave a sharp and resounding crack as it opened and the slip of paper inside fluttered about in the wind.

A/N: and maybe it said granted, and carnival music was playing, and an old familiar scene greeted his eyes when they opened – or – maybe there was nothing, and a cookie was just a cookie, dry, stale, and disappointing - - I'll let you decide…

Written: 08/26/2020

Suggested listening: Remember When by Bad Wolves