Wishes

Be careful what you wish for. It might come true. I wished that Lindsay was dead. Then I could comfort Sean, he would be grateful and turn to me more and more. Obviously, he would fall hopelessly in love with me and marry me within the year. A rich widower. What a catch!

I made stupid Lindsay my BFF. She dragged me to art galleries, as if I wanted to gawp at old paintings. I plodded around stately homes, calculating the values of tedious treasures. Of course, I took days off for shopping, a facial, and a prosecco with the girls. You never know when you will need friends.

There are all sorts of poisons, with long chemical names so I used cut and paste to find them on Google. All I got was a load of scientific bumf. Who cares? The stuff that looked best was a something or other salt. Not proper salt, like goes on chips, but chemical stuff. I found something called epsom salts in the chemist. Near enough. Now how to get it down her throat?

With it in my bag, she picked me up so we could visit a another gallery. We were late, so she zoomed along the road. I was silent, planning how to slip the salts into her prosecco. Country lanes are full of insects and a buzzing bluebottle fly hitched a ride. Lindsay swatted at it. And again. One handed, she skidded the car around a blind bend.

I know we hit the tree. I know because I am floating above the tree, the car and the bodies that had housed us. My wish come true, Lindsay was on her way to heaven. But there would be no rich Sean for me. I was sliding down and down and...

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