Three Wishes

You pour the rest of the wine down the drain—a reverse jinn, you think, locked in instant regret as you watch it stain and spiral away. You wish you could magic its return, but your words garble and warp. The joys of quitting, you hear behind you, that ragged voice that once cloaked you in topaz and honey, now like raw meat fed through a grinder. You grip the edge of the sink, wish he’d disappear. Not answering him, not turning around, affords more illusion. You wish again, holding your breath, pat yourself all over and Poof! you vanish.