Gone Fishing

I was eating a chocolate brownie. I didn’t have a side plate, or a serviette, so I held it delicately and ate it swiftly, sitting at my desk. As I revelled in the richness of my midmorning treat, I slid my mouse across my desk to my left hand (it’s a Mac mouse, so it doesn’t matter which side it’s on). My hand promptly seized in a moment of performance anxiety. It reminded me of piano days, a left hand, heavy and staggering, to a right hand dancing lightly along the keys. Don’t make me play Bach. The paralysis didn’t begin from fingertip and end with to too-thin-wrist, it seemed to travel all the way up to my elbow. And all I could offer myself was a protracted jagged up and down movement, stiffening my arm to retain some control. It was awkward. I finished my brownie, and wished the flavour could stay in my mouth forever and moved the mouse back to the right hand. And I wished I were ambidextrous. Two wishes slipped through the bars of now and never, racing to the place wishes go. I wish for many things. Some are sighs. Some are shrieks. Some are belly-laughs and others are sneaky buggers. But most of all, I wish that the Wishing Girl never leaves. And even now and then, I wish that some of my wishes (just one… please?) come true…