“Wow, really?” she asked. “Three wishes like a genie, or...”
I shrugged. “I’m not setting a limit.”
“Um, can we go someplace a little more comfortable and private? No one’s at my house,” she suggested.
“Sounds good,” I said. My former dog, now cat, had plopped down on the path, apparently enjoying the warmth of the pavement. “Patches is back in my apartment,” I said, and looking back up at the woman, “and you and I are in your bedroom.”
It felt like I was floating or falling for the briefest of seconds, and then I found myself standing in a nicely appointed master bedroom suite.
“Oh, my God,” said the woman, putting a hand to her temple.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Just a little dizzy,” she said. She looked up, realized where she was, and took the few steps over to the full-length mirror that was in one corner of the room.
“Oh, my God,” she said again. “I don’t recognize myself. I mean, I look good, but I’m so different. My husband and my kids won’t recognize me.”
I spotted a framed family photo on the dresser and wordlessly handed it to her.
“But -- but -- how?” she asked me. “We took this last year, and it shows me looking like this, and our sons look -- look half-Asian!”
“I guess when I say something is true, it means that it’s always been true,” I explained.
She shook her head. “This is too weird. I wish I were my normal self.”
“Okay,” I said with a bit of a smile, “you are your normal self.”
She remained a young-looking Asian in a skimpy outfit, but framed poster art for adult movies appeared on the walls of the room, all featuring her prominently. Judging by the art, her name was Suki Lee, or at least that’s what she went by professionally.
She blinked a couple of times. In the family photo she was holding, she now wore a much skimpier top than she had been previously.
“Any more wishes?” you ask.
“Huh?” she replies. “Oh, I guess I was about to wish something for my family, since I’m holding this. Let’s see...”