He scraped the sides.
“More!” he demanded.
The hag snatched the bowl away. “We eat when they’re ready. Not before. You must wait four years. ”
He just growled.
“You get one wish.”
He nodded. “Alas, you must live with the results of your desires.”
She pondered. “No, thanks.”
She closed the top of the oil lamp.
The alarm rings, but I’m sleeping. I continue my dream.
The sound blares.
“Josh?” My voice swims with slumber. A cold pillow gives me no answers.
Then I remember.
The man’s old, but he hasn’t always been. He remembers vaguely how to be young.
She stands before him now—her hair, her smell.
He is young once again.