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Pocketful of Tame Wishes
fantasyEveryone5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Tomas wasn't even there. The oven roared on its own, baking loaf after loaf that piled up and spilled out the door. The bread was rolling down the street in a warm, lumpy heap. Wren chased after it, jar in hand, dodging the loaves as they bounced past her boots.
Wren grabbed at the loaves, but more kept tumbling out, and the warm heap knocked her flat. By the time she scrambled up, bread filled the whole street and the jar had rolled into a gutter, dark and silent. She had chased the wish instead of calming it, and now it was gone. Her first morning, lost.
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