1 One Wish Is Granted!

"Can I sit next to you?"

At a pavement, where many pedestrians were walking like dedicated bees working in a hive, a man wearing a grey suit with a tie, placed a wooden box on the side of an old looking woman.

It was the rush hour in New York city, in one of its most iconic streets, Wall Street. It was normal to see weird stuff all day here. So, no one ever spared a glance towards the weird couple, sitting next to each other, on the side of the street, while leaning their backs to a low levelled wall with a metallic fence, lining a small garden behind.

One was a man who was filled with youth and energy. He got neat long black hair, with a finger depth groove at the side of his head, looking as if an early sign of hereditary baldness.

He got black eyes, the type that anyone could look at and feel like he was looking at a deep abyss. But they didn't emit anything aside from weird and sharp seriousness.

Just from one look and anyone could tell this dude was a man who enjoyed success in his career. And yet here he was, holding a wooden box with what was left of his career, sitting next to such a weird looking old lady.

She looked like she was one hundred years old or something, with deep wrinkles that dug many and irregular grooves at her face.

Her hair was white, enough to cover up her shoulders. Her eyes sank deep in deep holes-looking eye sockets. They were pure blue, giving her a faint touch of humanity.

She wore a long and ragged looking white dress. She held a ball of glass in one hand, and a wooden sign that had little words written there: Reading future and fate, at the other.

"A bad day?" The old lady gave the young man a deep look, trying to see through him.

"I can't tell," the man called Thomas shrugged. Going by standards, he was indeed living the worst day of his life. But he didn't feel bad or sorrow, no bitterness or regret, not even a single speck of loss.

In fact, he didn't feel anything at all.

"I can tell it's a bad day," the old lady moved her eyes towards the wooden box and its little belongings there. There was just a single photo of this man, sitting with a dog by his side, and a tree pot. Weirdly enough, that tree pot was in that wooden box, having a miniature living version of any tree, a marvel that was known as a Bonsai tree.

Aside from these two, he got an envelope, three small books, and a metal box that seemed to contain a medal or something.

"If I can feel how bad this day is, then I wouldn't have gone to all these therapists," Thomas shrugged again, seeming like he never cared about any of this, never cared about anything at all in the world.

"I'm curious then… What brings a man like yourself to sit by my side?" the old lady paused, feeling more curious about Thomas.

"I see you can read one's fate, right?" Thomas didn't answer her directly, moved his eyes at the sign she was holding, "why not read my fortune and see by yourself?"

"Is it a game?" the old lady laughed, putting a hand over her slightly opened mouth, "I've gotten too old to play such nice and amusing games."

"I'm not joking," Thomas shrugged again, "I don't want to speak about anything with someone I just met. But who knows, at the end of the day, you may be a very fortunate lady."

"And you may turn out to be a very fortunate guy by then," the old lady met Thomas' eyes. Then she slowly placed the wooden sign, letting it lean on the wall lining this pavement, placed the ball of glass on the ground, while extending both arms towards Thomas, "give me the hand you use to do things with."

"Fine," Thomas simply extended his left hand over, letting her hold his big palm, touching the inner lines there.

"Hmm… I can see pieces of your past…" as the old lady held his hand, she closed her eyes, murmured in a soft tone for a few seconds, before saying such words.

"A detective you are, right?" she slowly opened her eyes, and Thomas simply motioned towards the wooden box nearby as he said: "Was!"

"Interesting…" she kept her eyes over his, while her fingers kept tracking the lines in his palm, "I can sense how short your line of life is… No, it's not short, it's almost about to end… Like it's broken or something… You… You are going to die tonight!"

She said these words, especially the last ones, in a deep voice as if she was speaking from the bottom of a well.

"Nice guess," Thomas gave the old lady a deep glance, "if it was this easy, then I wouldn't have needed to spend such wealth over hospitals and useless doctors."

"You were trying to live, and I can't do that for you."

"I wanted to know what's wrong with me," Thomas corrected her words, "especially this isn't the only thing broken inside of me."

"I can tell." The old lady freed his hand from hers, "I can see lots of suffering, silent suffering."

"I can't feel anything, then how come this is suffering?"

Thomas wasn't lying. Since a young age, and thanks to an unfortunate incident he got with his family, he became unable to feel anything.

He couldn't feel pain, sadness, happiness, or even empathy. The only things he felt were curiosity, anger, and weird hunger for truth.

And that was what made him a great detective, especially at such a harsh place like the military.

"But you went to see doctors and therapists… Isn't that a sign that you were suffering?"

"I just got into problems thanks to my rage fits," Thomas sighed, "if not for that, I'd not have done any of that."

"And I saw long distance travels, to places where you stayed for a long time trying to solve this," the old lady pointed at himself in a whole. And Thomas felt curious at the moment about how she knew any of that.

He indeed travelled, went to the eastern parts of the world, and lived there for long months, even a couple of years.

He did that on the advice of his therapists after the conventional methods failed. Per them, he didn't have an organic problem, but a psychological trauma.

He lost his parents in that accident, seeing them getting mercilessly killed at the hands of some terrorists at western Africa.

According to science, he got a sort of deep trauma, one that his childish and immature mind couldn't handle and decided to shut down all emotions off him.

So he went to visit many places in eastern Asia, learning many things that were supposed to benefit him. He even mastered one of the most ancient Qi techniques that aimed at stirring up his emotions and healing his soul.

But none of that worked! He ended up returning back here and continued his work. And recently he got diagnosed with a lethal disease, one that he didn't even feel a thing about.

He was in the late stages of cancer, and doctors estimated he wouldn't survive the night. And so he came here today, cleared his office, left his job, and got out with the little things he had since he was a kid.

"Nothing worked," he said in plain tone, "not going abroad, not visiting a therapist, not even reading superheroes comics."

"Oh, you did that?!" the old lady seemed to be surprised by his words, and Thomas simply nodded.

"I got this advice after the failure of my travels. One therapist believed that by reading superheroes comics, I can relate to their misery, find light in their life stories, and perhaps I might get healed."

"Did that work?"

"It was… Amusing a bit," his tone slightly changed before returning to its monotonic way, "that dude told me I got attached to reading them, some sort of addiction or something. And that was a good sign."

"That's not bad news then."

"It's not enough," he pointed towards his chest, "I got something eating me inside faster than what these useless methods can do to heal me."

"I see…" The old lady returned to look at his wooden box, the little things in it, and couldn't help but feel curious about the picture, "don't you have a family?"

"Nope."

"Not even a girl you like?"

"I told you already," he paused, looking at the distant street as if he was recalling something, "I can't feel anything, love and hatred included."

"Ouch, you are still a virgin!" she said it as if it was some sort of a crime or something. Thomas didn't feel anything towards her comment, and simply kept looking at the world around him.

He always kept living his life while not caring about anything. He just went to therapists when his rage fits became a bit uncontrollable, causing many problems at work.

On one occasion, he was this close from killing someone he was interrogating. His therapists told him that his old trauma left a hunger for vengeance inside his soul, one that drove him to get such a job in the first place.

His broken marble, like he used to call, wasn't that bad. It gave his mind a clarity that none other than himself had. He could see through anything, link the unrelated pieces of evidence together, and come up with a brilliant conclusion.

He got a very successful career record that would be damn hard for anyone else to get even close to, not to mention breaking it. But in terms of personal life… He literally got a big f*cking zero there.

"I feel sad for you," the old lady said, but her words didn't manage to shift Thomas' eyes away from the bustling life around, "how about this, I can help you."

Thomas was distracted by the sights he was seeing. Since that incident, he kept looking at the world as if he was seeing everyone from behind a gigantic glass wall.

People lived their lives, a life that was totally different from his. He wasn't that ok with his condition, especially when he learnt he wasn't normal, and he got something broken inside that needed to be fixed.

He was curious about what emotions really were, how feeling them was. And kept looking at the people who were laughing, crying, shouting, and even showing their disdain and contempt with curiosity as if he was reading an interesting case.

But this was the sole case he failed to solve so far.

"I told you already, nothing worked," he didn't even move his eyes away from the people walking in this street, "besides, what's the use? I'm already dying, dying without even feeling any pain or anything. My doctors said I'm the lucky one, the luckiest of all the patients they saw. At least I was going to die without even feeling fatigue or pain, dying as if I got a heart attack or something, while being in top shape and seemingly perfect health."

"My fees aren't that high to begin with," As if the old lady didn't hear what he said, she slowly added, "I get paid one hundred dollars for my treatment. What do you think? Do you want my services?"

"Come on," she managed to attract his attention finally by what she just said, "I can tell who is lying from a kilometre away!"

"And? Do you think I'm lying?"

The two kept looking at each other for a long minute. "You do know that you are the longest person I spoke with, aside from my therapist, my suspects and witnesses, and my colleagues and boss?"

"Is that a yes?" she extended her arm, "pay me one hundred dollars and you'll be treated."

Thomas gave her a deep look. He wasn't joking when he said he could tell if anyone was lying in front of him. This was one of the strongest traits he got, one that made him a legend in his work.

And right now, he didn't feel this old lady was lying to him at all.

"Interesting," he didn't answer her directly, but placed his hand in the inner pocket of his suit, took out his wallet. It was a small black leathered one, looking small, but was filled with lots of plastic cards.

He slowly kept taking them one by one out and placed them on the ground. "These are all what I have," he pointed at the nine cards, "their secret code is the same, four nines. Just take them and at least one of us will live through the night satisfied."

"This…" the old lady expected many things, expected him to question and doubt her, expected him even to bargain with her. But to her surprise, he didn't do any of that, "why?!"

"I'm a man who is going to die tonight," he shrugged, "I got no heir, got no family, no friends, not even a girl. I already told you, you may leave with a big surprise, being a lucky one at the end of the day."

She didn't touch the cards until one minute later. In her mind, she wasn't just shocked as Thomas thought, but she was calculating things.

"You overpaid my fees, and it's just fair to give you little gifts on your next trip," she paused, moving her eyes at the wooden box, "tell me, which item of these you'll take with you on a trip?"

"Is this part of the treatment?" he faintly smiled, but he truly felt nothing at all. He just learnt how to act human, act normal, show little human emotions using his facial muscles from time to time.

"Consider it this way, so which one will you choose?"

"Not the box of course," he moved, grabbing the box closer, before slowly taking out the small Bonsai tree.

It had a thick and short trunk that was filled with rough ridges and deep lines. Its crown was like a weird shape of a hook, with many green tiny leaves up there.

"I got it from a trip to a nice place," he paused, "I saw myself in it. Looking totally normal, but a little thing missing messed everything up."

"It's beautiful," the old lady said, "good. You can have it with you. And now, let's get you a ticket."

He didn't know why, but it seemed like this old lady was treating all this as some sort of a funny joke or something.

"Place your hands here," she held the ball of glass again, raising it slightly in the air, "place one hand at the ball, another on your tree pot."

"Ok," Thomas knew this wasn't going to work, but he didn't mind going through this weird experience. At least he'd get a memory that could be called interesting and amusing in the eyes of normal humans, before dying.

But against what he expected, when he touched this ball, and just as the old lady closed her eyes, a bright flash of light came, one that was too bright and blinding.

"This a simple token of appreciation from me," As the world around started to turn into a world of white bright light, he saw the shadow of the old lady moving, looking like she hugged him or something.

If he could feel right now, then he'd feel her lips kissing his left cheek. And then the white light intensified, before he couldn't see anything at all anymore.

"One wish is granted. And thanks to the generosity, one thing you selected will be added to your journey. One little gift is given, as a token of appreciation…"

Just like a deep voice of a god, that alien voice thundered in the entire world. In the middle of all the booming and rumbling, Thomas heard such words as if they were some sort of secret prayer or something.

Then the light started to fade away, while the world around returned to appear in his eyes once more.

"Ouch! It hurts!"