Nolan has a great post today on dying wishes:
It was cleaning day for the [hospital] wishing well, and the glimmering, magic water had been drained from the reservoir. In it’s place stood a scrawny, immigrant worker with a goatee, manning an industrial shopvac.
There he was, casually sucking up all of those hopes and dreams off the bottom of the fountain. The noise, I suppose, where the screams being released from their special storage place inside the uncountable coins as they went from what they thought was their final resting spot into the bowels of a dank machine.
Here’s hoping the patients whose dreams of wellness were contained in those wishing coins, fare better than the coins themselves.