You call me at the same time every night. 11:11 PM. You always tell me to make a wish. So I do, every night. You tell me that you don’t believe in magic or miracles and wishing is pointless. And yet you still call me every night, at the same time. You soon tell me you have to go and to have sweet dreams. I tell you not to let the bed bugs bite. Sort of another routine of ours. I hear the line go dead and I sit there listening to the dial tone which, moments earlier was replaced with your melodic voice. Telling me to make a wish.

Even though you don’t believe wishes come true, you still call me and every night,

I wish for you.