In the waning glow of the city’s rush hour, Albert maneuvered through throngs of pedestrians, his arms laden with grocery bags. The sky overhead smudged into deep purples and fiery oranges, heralding twilight. A sound managed to snag the outer fringes of his attention, the crunch of gravel. His eyes flicked toward a nearby alley, and he caught a harrowing scene: an old woman was clutching her purse with a vice-like grip, in a deadly game of tug of war with a thug brandishing a knife.
Time froze.
Albert’s heart pounded against his ribcage. He wasn’t a hero by any stretch of the imagination, but he also wasn’t the sort of man who could ignore an injustice. With a muffled curse—because he knew this wouldn’t end well for him—he yelled, “Hey! Leave her alone!”
And before he realized what he was doing, Albert had thrown down his groceries—sending cans rolling into the gutter, and cereal boxes splattering open, exposing their fortified innards—and was lunging at the mugger.
The thug whirled around, his eyes dark voids of malice. His pocket knife captured the fading twilight as he turned, transforming it into an ominous glint. Albert lunged, fist aimed squarely at the thug’s face. In an agile move, the mugger released the old woman’s purse and sidestepped Albert’s punch, retaliating with a brutal blow to Albert’s midsection. Losing his footing, Albert staggered into the assailant, causing both men to tumble to the ground. The knife slipped from the mugger’s grip and vanished into the encroaching shadows.
The old woman screamed for help, and now that he was unarmed and sensing the growing peril, the thug sprang to his feet. In his haste to escape, he landed one more punch on Albert and followed it with a vicious kick to his face. Albert’s world swirled into a disorienting haze, the taste of copper flooding his mouth as he watched the mugger melt away into the labyrinthine darkness.
A frail figure with a halo of white hair, the old woman clutched her purse to her chest and began fussing over Albert. “Oh dear, he hurt you. I don’t often do this, but I live not too far away. Won’t you come with me and let me tend to your wounds? It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll be alright,” Albert said, his voice raspy. “You still have your purse. That’s enough for me.”
“But look at you,” she said in an accent he couldn’t quite identify. “And your poor groceries are scattered all across this filthy alley.”
“That stuff’s replaceable, you’re not.”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand. I was raised never to leave a debt unrepaid,” she implored, her pale blue eyes holding an enigmatic blend of wisdom and desperation. She opened her purse and fished out six antiquated copper coins.
“I didn’t do this for a reward.”
“These coins aren’t for spending; they’re for wishing. Most people think that large silver coins grant better wishes, but it isn’t the size of the coin or its denomination; it’s the material they’re made from that makes the difference. Copper attracts the best magic.”
“That’s very kind of you, but save the wishes for yourself. I’m fine, really.”
“They are no longer my coins; they belong to you,” the woman insisted, grabbing Albert’s wrist in a grip that belied her age. She sighed as the coins slid off her palm, as though she was letting go of an enormous burden. The coins felt heavier in Albert’s hand than coins of that size should.
“There is a fountain in the town square; go there and make your wishes. And with each coin you drop in the fountain waters, you must recite One for a wish, Two for a kiss, Three for a letter, Four for something better, Five for sorrow, Six see your sweetheart tomorrow.”
She made him repeat the recitation several times before she released her vice grip, said, “Thank you,” and went on her way.
***
Albert’s apartment was a testament to his isolation. The walls were stark and bare, devoid of any pictures or artwork that might suggest a life rich with experiences or shared moments. The furniture was minimalistic: a simple couch, a coffee table, and an unassuming dining set with just a single plate neatly positioned, as though anticipating a meal that would never be shared. On a chest of drawers that held a few nondescript items—a wallet, some receipts, a half-used bottle of cologne—sat a shallow dish meant for loose change.
Albert placed the six dull brown coins the old woman had given him into this dish. Each coin was slightly smaller than a penny, and so worn that any imagery or inscription it once bore had been erased by the merciless passage of time. Once he set them down, they seemed to blend into the mundane tableau of his life, and he soon forgot about them.
Days went by as they did in the life of a lonely single person, each one a repetition of the last. Sometimes, to offer a twist in his monotony, Albert would walk in a different direction, and this day, he found himself walking through the town square. A picturesque fountain stood at its center, its waters continually flowing but somehow never escaping, much like Albert himself. As he passed by, he observed a young couple deeply in love, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, utterly oblivious to the world around them. Usually, such public displays of affection would irritate him, a constant reminder of what he lacked. But there was something about this couple, something so genuine that it broke through his usual cynicism.
Just then, he felt an unusual weight in his pocket—a weight that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Reaching in, his fingers brushed against the rough surface of the coins he had left in his apartment.
The old woman’s instructions came flooding back to him. Puzzled yet intrigued, he thought, with a sense of inexplicable resolve, Why not? Albert took one of the six coins and, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, whispered, “One for a wish.” His words melded with the sorrowful symphony of cascading water. And in that moment, inspired by the love he had witnessed, he wished for something that had long eluded him: companionship, a meaningful human connection that had always seemed just out of reach.
The following day, while out running errands, Albert was jolted from his thoughts when he collided with someone on the crowded streets. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” the stranger exclaimed, her hazel eyes wide with surprise and a hint of embarrassment.
“No, it’s my fault,” Albert responded, feeling an immediate sense of intrigue. “I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just in a rush and completely turned around. New in town,” the woman said, her voice tinged with desperation as she glanced at her phone. “And already late for a crucial meeting. I can’t even find a taxi.”
“Let me see the address,” Albert offered, sensing her urgency. She handed her phone over, and Albert looked at the location. “Well, the good news is it’s not too far from here. The bad news? It’s a bit of a labyrinth getting there.”
The woman sighed, “I can’t afford to get lost again.”
“How about I escort you? I promise I’m a fantastic guide,” Albert said with a reassuring smile.
She looked hesitant but then nodded, her eyes locking onto his. “I would really appreciate that, thank you.”
“My name’s Albert, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, Albert. I’m Emily,” she quickly informed him. Her eyes, soft hazel orbs framed by wisps of auburn hair, seemed like wells of untold stories to Albert.
Albert navigated them through shortcuts and alleys as they walked, each turn calculated to shave time off their journey. To ease the tension, he initiated a conversation. “So, what brings you to our little maze of a city?”
“A job,” Emily said. “I’m a graphic designer. The firm I work for just landed a big contract here, so they sent me to handle it.”
“That sounds exciting,” Albert remarked, genuinely interested. “And stressful.”
“You have no idea,” Emily chuckled.
“And you? What do you do?” Emily asked, momentarily forgetting her stress as she became engrossed in the conversation.
“I work in IT. Not as exciting as graphic design, but it pays the bills.”
As they rounded the last corner, the building Emily had been looking for came into view. She let out a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe we made it. Thank you, Albert. You’re a lifesaver.”
“It was my pleasure, really,” Albert said, feeling a unique connection forming, one he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
They stopped in front of the building, both aware that the moment was about to end. “Well, this is me,” Emily said, her voice carrying a note of reluctance.
“Yeah,” Albert replied, equally hesitant. “Good luck with your meeting.”
“Thanks. I wish we had more time to… you know, chat,” Emily said, her eyes meeting his, revealing a hint of regret.
“Me too,” Albert agreed, sensing the spark between them was something worth exploring but unsure how to capture the moment before it vanished.
And then they parted ways, Emily rushing into her building and Albert standing there for a few seconds, watching her go. He realized he hadn’t asked for her number, a regret that hung heavy in the air long after she had disappeared from sight.
Albert ambled through the town square on his way home; the fountain’s cascading water called out to him, reminding him of the inexplicable, yet unmistakable, connection he’d felt with Emily. He felt a slight heaviness in his pocket, and his fingers grazed over the small, worn coins once again.
A realization unfolded within him like the petal of a late-blooming flower. He’d met Emily—the bewitching woman with hazel eyes—right after he’d made his first wish. The correlation lit up his mind, a flicker of hopeful fire. Was there really a connection?
He paused, standing before the fountain, which seemed more mystical now than it ever had, and with a newfound sense of intention, he reached into his pocket and drew out the second of the mysterious copper coins. He stared at its tarnished surface as though it held answers to questions he had yet to ask.
Taking a deep breath, he let the coin slip from his grasp, watching as it arched gracefully through the air and broke the fountain’s water surface with a soft splash. As the ripples emanated outward, carrying with them his silent hopes, he spoke the words, “Two for a kiss.”
The coin sank out of sight, but its absence was filled with a swelling of anticipation, almost as if the universe had finally taken note of his desire. Shaking off a sense of wonder, he continued his walk home, but this time a buoyant sense of possibility carried him along. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Albert looked forward to what tomorrow might bring.
The setting sun was casting golden rays that filtered through the city buildings as Albert took his usual route home from work. Just as he was about to cross the street, he noticed Emily standing at a corner, scanning her phone with a slightly furrowed brow. The sight of her reignited the hope kindled by yesterday’s magical encounter and his subsequent wish by the fountain.
“Emily, fancy running into you again!” Albert called out, crossing the street with a palpable sense of anticipation.
She looked up, and her eyes met his. Instantly, her face brightened. “Albert! This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Serendipity must be working overtime,” he grinned. “Would you, by any chance, be free for dinner?”
Her eyes hesitated for a moment, scanning the horizon as if searching for a reason to decline, but then she smiled. “I’d love to, actually.”
At the restaurant, ambient music played softly in the background, candles flickered on the tables, and the air was thick with the scent of freshly prepared food. Yet, despite the charming setting, it was as if they were in a bubble of their own, the world outside momentarily forgotten.
“This is a lovely place,” Emily began, swirling her wine glass as she spoke, “I would’ve walked right past it if not for you.”
Albert chuckled, “Well, this place is a hidden gem, but the real treasure is the company.”
Emily blushed, captivated by his words. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“Only when inspired,” he replied, locking eyes with her.
Over dinner, they discussed their interests and their dreams, their laugh echoing in shared jokes. Each conversation seemed to draw them closer, almost as if they were solving a puzzle that neither knew they were a part of.
The night drew to a close, and Albert found himself walking Emily back to her hotel. The atmosphere between them was thick with unspoken words and sentiments that neither wanted to disturb.
“So,” Albert began, carefully choosing his words, “How about catching a movie tomorrow? There’s a new arthouse film that’s getting rave reviews.”
Emily hesitated. “I’d love to, Albert. I really would, but I can’t.”
Albert’s eyes met hers, his smile waning but still present. “No worries, we can make it another time. Whenever you’re free.”
Emily took a deep breath. “That’s the thing, Albert. I can’t make it another time either.”
The weight of the unspoken filled the space between them. Albert’s eyes searched hers, wondering if he should voice the assumption forming in his mind. “Ah, I see. You must be in a relationship already. Boyfriend or husband? Or, uh, something else? I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s not that,” Emily cut in, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “I should have told you early; tonight’s my last night in town. I’m leaving on an assignment tomorrow.”
Albert felt a mix of surprise and disappointment wash over him. The universe had given him this brief, almost magical connection, only to yank it away so quickly.
“I see,” he finally said, the words heavy yet sincere. “That’s a shame.”
Emily nodded. “Unfortunate timing, isn’t it?”
Albert felt a mix of disappointment and urgency. “In that case, I hope this isn’t too forward, but may I kiss you goodbye?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Their lips met, and it felt like time stopped at that moment. It was a soft kiss, yet it carried the weight of their unspoken feelings, a simple yet profound connection that neither had anticipated but both so deeply yearned for.
As they parted, Emily whispered, “Thank you for a beautiful end to my stay here.”
***
A week had passed since that electrifying encounter with Emily, and Albert found himself in a peculiar limbo. She occupied his thoughts, making routine distractions like work and daily errands all but meaningless. He walked by places they had briefly visited together, like breadcrumbs on a path of nostalgia. Even the books he read seemed dull; their plots couldn’t compare to the unfolding mystery of his own life.
Albert’s moral compass remained steadfast despite the emotional whirlpool he was navigating. Making a wish that would alter the course of Emily’s career was out of the question. That would be a selfish violation of her autonomy, and Albert knew it. Yet, his fingers itched to dial her number, to hear her voice—only he had never gotten her contact information.
The third coin, according to the old woman, was Three for a letter. Surely that couldn’t affect her career if they simply maintained some sort of correspondence, so Albert purposely took a coin to the town square fountain this time. His hand hovered above the water for a moment, contemplating the ripple effects of what he was about to do. With a deep breath, he tossed the third coin into the fountain, watching as it plunged into the water and settled among countless other coins—each a silent testament to hopes, wishes, and dreams.
“Three for a letter,” he whispered to the fountain, his words mingling with the sound of cascading water as if sealing a pact with the universe.
As he stepped away, Albert felt an unusual peace settle over him. He had cast his wish into the world, whether by magic, fate, or mere coincidence. And now, he could only wait and hope that somewhere, somehow, his message would find its way to Emily. Whatever happened next was out of his hands, yet strangely, he felt an inkling of certainty that their paths were not done crossing. After all, wishes, like love, moved in mysterious ways.
It was a crisp, clear day the next morning, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter than usual as Albert sipped his coffee as a knock echoed through his quiet apartment. Startled, he opened the door to find the mail carrier, holding an elegant envelope sealed with an intricate wax stamp. “Special delivery,” the mail carrier said.
Albert’s heart raced as he took the letter. “Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice tinged with wonderment. As the door closed, he carefully examined the envelope. It was an ecru color, subtly textured, with his name elegantly hand-written. And in the upper left-hand corner was the most important information in the world, Emily’s return address.
In a world of emails, videos, and text messages, this woman had taken the time to purchase stationery and handwrite a letter to him. He felt a sense of honor that he couldn’t readily explain, and his hands trembled as he broke the wax seal. He unfolded the parchment paper and drank in her words.
“Dear Albert,” the letter began. Emily wrote of how she couldn’t shake their meeting from her thoughts, how the very thought of him brought a sense of warmth and excitement she hadn’t felt in years. She explained she had asked around for his address, unashamed in her pursuit to know him better. “Though miles may lie between us, words can bridge our worlds,” she wrote.
Albert felt his heart swell as he read. Emily’s letter was more than just ink on paper; it was an invitation into her life, her thoughts, and her future. And it was an affirmation, a soul-stirring assurance that their encounter was as meaningful to her as it was to him.
Seized by an impulse, he rushed out and purchased the best stationery he could find and sat down at his small writing desk. Albert began to pen his response, his thoughts flowing effortlessly. He wrote of his daily routines, of the loneliness that had ebbed but never fully receded, and how her very presence—though only in ink—had brightened his life immeasurably.
Weeks turned into months, and their letters became a tapestry of shared confidences, dreams, and the intricate details that make a life. Each envelope that arrived was a chapter, each letter a verse in their unfolding love story. Despite the physical miles that separated them, their words built a bridge, a secret world where they were the protagonists in a romance of their own making.
Emily’s letters became a bright point in Albert’s otherwise monotonous routine. He eagerly awaited her eloquent prose, the lyrical accounts of her travels, and her poetic musings that somehow managed to turn even the mundane into something worth marveling at. Yet, a gnawing ache in the core of his being started to make itself known—each letter, while beautiful, also magnified the unfillable space that physical separation had wedged between them.
Albert realized that paper and ink, no matter how earnest, could not replicate the warmth of a touch, the electricity of a shared glance, or the intimacy of a spoken word. Each letter he opened was a double-edged sword: an aching reminder of what could be, yet currently wasn’t.
One evening, overcome by this realization, Albert found himself walking to the fountain. His hand delved into his pocket, fingers grazing the cool, worn surface of the fourth coin. He hesitated momentarily, wondering whether it was fair to interfere with the natural course of things. But as he stood there, the moonlight dancing on the water below, he felt almost as if the fountain itself urged him on, whispering promises of possibilities that hung tantalizingly in the night air.
Taking a deep breath, he clutched the coin tightly and whispered, “Four for something better,” as though the coin were a talisman capable of altering the fabric of his life. With a flick of his wrist, the coin spun through the air and plunged into the depths of the fountain, sending ripples across the surface as it disappeared.
As he walked away, Albert felt a weight lifted off him, replaced by a sense of vague expectancy. He didn’t know what form this ‘something better’ would take, but the act of wishing felt like setting the coordinates for a new destination in his emotional universe.
Days turned into weeks, and although nothing overtly miraculous happened, Albert noticed subtle changes. An air of anticipation surrounded him; even his daily routines felt imbued with a newfound energy. The letters from Emily continued, but they, too, seemed to carry a different undertone—an air of unspoken possibility that both thrilled and terrified him.
It was as if both he and Emily were on the cusp of something, teetering on the edge of a transformation neither could articulate but both deeply felt. Albert wasn’t sure whether the fountain or coin’s magic was real or imagined, but one thing was irrefutable: his wishes had set in motion a chain of events, unseen yet palpable, that were incrementally bringing him closer to that elusive ‘something better’.
And so he waited, his soul attuned to the mysterious rhythms of the universe, anticipating the moment when the next chapter in his life—and Emily’s—would finally begin.
Albert’s cell phone rang during his lunch break one day, and he was elated when he heard Emily’s voice over the phone, her words infusing him with a sense of euphoria he hadn’t felt in months.
“Guess what, Albert? My company’s opening a new branch near you, and they’re sending me there. Can you believe it? We’ll finally be in the same city!”
The news was so miraculous, so perfectly aligned with his last wish, that for a moment, Albert found himself at a loss for words. After a moment, he managed to stammer, “That’s incredible, Emily. I can’t wait to see you.”
She gave him her flight details, and he noted them down meticulously. It felt like destiny was finally smiling upon them.
The following day, Albert stood in the airport, holding a bouquet of roses and sporting an expectant smile that he couldn’t suppress. Every announcement from the loudspeaker made his heart leap. But as the minutes stretched into hours, that initial enthusiasm turned into anxious pacing. The flight status on the screen kept flickering between “Delayed” and “Awaiting Update.”
As he aimlessly wandered near the arrival gate, his mind began to race through a series of worst-case scenarios. His phone buzzed periodically with updates on the flight delay, but that did little to allay his growing sense of dread.
Suddenly, a palpable wave of emotion surged through the airport terminal. People were staring at their phones, some bursting into tears, others gasping in disbelief. Confused and alarmed, Albert turned to a man nearby. “What’s going on here?”
The man looked up from his phone, his face etched with concern. “Check the news. They’re reporting something about a flight with engine trouble.”
Albert’s fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone and navigated to a news website. The headline was chilling: “Flight 417 Reported Engine Trouble Before Going Missing Over Atlantic.”
His heart sank, and the bouquet of roses he held felt like a hundred-pound weight in his arms. A shiver ran down his spine as the horrific reality of the news settled in. Time seemed to stand still, and the hustle and bustle of the airport faded into a distant hum.
The news reported that the rescue effort turned into a recovery mission in the following days. With each passing hour, hope dwindled as updates came back increasingly grim. Friends and family tried to console Albert, but their words felt like mere echoes in the vast emptiness that had enveloped him. He replayed every moment, every conversation he had had with Emily, as though clinging to the fragments would somehow piece reality back into the shape he wanted.
At night, he found himself standing at the fountain, staring at it like an oracle whose prophecies had veered tragically off course. He thought about the coin, the wish for ‘something better,’ and wondered if fate had twisted his words into a cruel, unbearable irony.
Clutching the two remaining coins tightly in his fist, he hesitated. Could he still believe in the magic that seemed to have brought him so much yet cost him so dearly? His fingers felt the worn edges of the coins, each one like a piece of a puzzle that could never be completed.
With a shaky breath, he opened his hand and looked at the coins. These small, innocuous disks had taken on so much meaning, yet they also seemed hopelessly inadequate at that moment. But what did he have left but hope?
“Five for sorrow,” he whispered, his voice catching. The coin slipped from his fingers, cutting through the air before splashing into the fountain, its ripples mingling with his reflected tears.
“Six see your sweetheart tomorrow,” he continued, a bittersweet smile forming on his lips as he released the final coin. It joined the first in the water, and for a moment, it felt like he’d dropped a part of his soul into the fountain.
As he stood there, eyes fixed on the water, Albert realized he was holding his breath, as if the fountain would somehow respond, validating his pain, his hope, his love. But there was only the constant, melancholic murmur of the fountain, echoing his solitary lament into the dark night.
Sleep had become a rare commodity for Albert, coming in fits and starts, like droplets in a drought. Night after night, he would lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events leading up to Emily’s disappearance. But tonight was different. His body, no longer able to sustain the burden of insomnia and emotional exhaustion, surrendered to the arms of a restless sleep.
However, sleep’s embrace was short-lived. A sudden, thunderous knock shattered the quiet of his apartment, ripping him from his uneasy slumber. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled to the door, his mind a fog of disoriented thoughts. Could it be news of Emily?
When the door swung open, his blood turned to ice. Standing before him was Emily—but not the Emily he remembered. Her skin was bloated, a sickly shade of blue, as though she had spent a lifetime submerged underwater. Her clothes were torn to shreds, clinging to her form in tattered strips. Her eyes, once lively and expressive, were now vacant voids of darkness.
Albert’s gaze dropped to her hand as it slowly opened. Six worn copper coins clattered onto the hardwood floor, each one landing with a resonance that seemed to shake the very foundation of his world. The coins—the very tokens of his wishes—had returned to him in the most horrifying way imaginable.
Her lips parted, and what came out was a voice so distorted, it barely resembled anything human—a guttural rasp laced with something far darker than malice, tinged with anguish that echoed the depths of hell itself.
“Is this what you wished for?” she croaked, the words oozing from her mouth like a putrid liquid.
The atmosphere in the room thickened, filling with an oppressive dread that left Albert paralyzed. He stared at the grotesque figure before him, his mouth agape but no words forthcoming. The six copper coins lay at his feet, now symbols of a wish turned cataclysmically wrong, each reflecting the distorted image of a man trapped in his own nightmarish reality.
MADD FICTIONAL 