Movement caught my eye, out the window, while I set the electric kettle on its dock. I saw something hopping across my neighbor’s driveway. It looked like a frog.

I felt hope rise within me. An unbridled hope. A frog? Here? Hopping across the driveway? It was like seeing a celebrity hopping across the driveway. It was like seeing Jared Leto (Suicide Squad) hopping across the driveway.

But then I squinted—to overcome my corneal deformity (I am nearsighted)—and saw that it was a bird.

I don’t have time for another bird.

I wished, with startling aggression, that the bird had been a frog.

Surely, such an aggressive wish must be granted.