Wish

I made the wish, clear and true, and my fingers tingled. When I flexed them, they moved with freedom and precision: I felt I could have plucked a fly from the air. My hearing had changed, too. I heard tones and rhythms and melodies from the fountain where I had thrown my coin. I dashed around looking for a piano, and found one in a grand old bookshop, old and (I could now tell) out of tune. The music poured out of me. I haven't played much since. I suppose if I had been all that interested, I would have learned without wishing.