🍽️ The Retro Diner

Harriet entered the building through the main lobby doors and checked her watch. Satisfied, she bypassed the elevators, and walked purposefully to the stairwell. The stairs would take longer, but she savored the anticipation. She clutched a tiny foil wrapper in her hand, and for the first time in months, Harriet felt hopeful.

A week ago, Harriet had been having lunch at a popular café with friends. The weekly lunch date was important to her well-being. Since the war had started, she was trying hard to maintain some semblance of normalcy in her life. Lunch at the Retro Diner was always a highlight of her week. The server approached their table. “Separate checks, right?” he asked. 

“Yup, same as usual,” she answered. A few minutes later, he returned and placed their checks in a pile with four foil-wrapped candies on the table.

“Ooh, chocolates! That’s new!” said Esther, reaching for one and popping it into her mouth. She glanced at the writing on the wrapper and smoothed it out on the table. “Laugh heartily once a day. It’s food for the soul,” she read aloud. “Ha! That’s rich! As if there were anything worth laughing about lately.”

“Mine says Good health comes of good habits,” said Susan. “Tell that to everyone who died in that last pandemic. Good habits didn’t help them.” She glanced over at Harriet, who seemed oddly distracted.

“A polka-dotted umbrella will make you happy,” read Linda. “Well, that’s kind of true. What’s yours say, Harriet? Harriet? Are you even listening?” Harriet looked down at the wrapper in her hand. 

“Redeem your free wish at 2:00 PM this Friday on the seventh floor,” Harriet answered slowly.

“Really? That’s what yours says? That’s oddly specific,” said Esther.

“Let me see that,” Susan said, taking the foil wrapper from Harriet’s hand. “Huh. It looks just like the rest of ours. The font is the same and everything. So weird,” she said. “Well,” she added more brightly, “what would you wish for if you could wish for anything, Harriet?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. There’s so much wrong in the world right now. Where to start?” answered Harriet.

“Well, I’d wish for world peace,” Linda declared.

“How would that even work?” Susan asked. “If we had world peace, what would happen to people in occupied countries? Is each country stuck in its current situation? What about disputed borders and all that?” 

“OK, well, these constant storms are becoming unbearable. How about a climate reset to the year 2050? Wouldn’t that be great?” asked Linda.

“I don’t know, Linda,” Harriet answered. “It sounds good, but I doubt that a wish could reverse what’s already happened. You can’t change history. How about… eternal happiness?”

“No, that’s no good,” said Susan. “It’s sorrow and adversity that makes us appreciate happiness; if you were always happy, it wouldn’t be special. No, there has to be a better wish…”

“Money!” said Linda. “That’s what I’d wish for. I’m drowning in student loans.”

“You know what they say,” Esther offered, “money can’t buy happiness. Rich people are just as miserable as the rest of us. And besides, didn’t you ever read that famous horror story, ‘The Monkey’s Paw’? That guy wished for money, and it cost him his son!” They continued in this way for a few more minutes as they paid their bills and walked outside.

“So, Harriet, are you coming back here at 2:00 PM on Friday to redeem your free wish?” Susan asked with a smile.

“I wish—pun intended,” Harriet answered, “but I’ll be at work. Sorry, friends, I’ll have to miss my chance to bestow global nirvana, or whatever. Ha ha!” The friends chuckled and went their separate ways.

She had laughed it off for her friends, but for the rest of the week, Harriet kept thinking about wishes, and re-reading the candy wrapper. Redeem your free wish at 2:00 PM this Friday on the seventh floor. She thought back to old folk and fairy tales that she’d read. Wishes often went awry—even if you got what you wished for. She had read “The Monkey’s Paw” online earlier in the week. That was enough to scare anyone from wishing for personal gain; but surely there was a wish that wouldn’t be harmful. Harriet weighed the possibilities in her mind and thought about Friday. The building that housed the restaurant was close enough to work. She could take a late lunch break and go up to the seventh floor. What was up there? Just offices, she guessed. But—maybe the candy wrapper was some kind of restaurant promotion with a prize or something. Maybe the restaurant had a business office on the seventh floor, and they’d be waiting for her. It couldn’t hurt to look, she assured herself. She could go up to the seventh floor and look around. Later on, she’d tell her friends and they’d all have a good laugh. Harriet made up her mind to go.

On Friday at 1:45 PM, Harriet left work and walked down the block. She felt optimistic. She passed the restaurant entrance and entered through the building’s main lobby doors. She walked up the stairs and checked the time again. It was 1:57 PM. At precisely 1:59 PM, she pushed open the fire doors and stepped into the seventh-floor corridor. 

Nothing. There was no sign, no greeting, no people. A quick glance at the directory on the wall told her the restaurant did not have an office here. Her optimism was replaced by a sense of foolishness. She had come this far, however, so she kept faith in the plan. At exactly 2:00 PM, she held out the tiny wrapper in both hands and declared aloud, “I wish that I will always have reason to hope.” The lights flickered for a second and Harriet felt dizzy. She looked around, distractedly, and blinked slowly.

“A polka-dotted umbrella will make you happy,” read Linda. “Well, that’s kind of true. What’s yours say, Harriet? Harriet? Are you even listening?” Harriet looked down at the wrapper in her hand.

“Redeem your free wish at 2:00 PM this Friday on the seventh floor,” Harriet answered slowly.