11:11

We sit far back in the theater, the darkness interrupted only by the glow of his watch.

"Wait for it..." he says, "There. Make a wish."

He lifts his wrist, showing off the string of ones. I laugh and shut my eyes, wishing. There is silence, as he does the same. 

"What'd you wish for?" I ask.

"I can't tell you, you can't tell wishes."

"That only applies to birthday wishes. 11:11 wishes are fair game."

"Well, what'd you wish for?"

I always wish for the same thing. It's become almost like a prayer. I wish for happiness.  I can't wish for one detail over another, I wish to be happy enough not to want to change any details.