Molly wished hard and dropped the origami paper cranes into the goldfish pond. "They float, he comes, they sink, he doesn't, but they will surely sink", she prepared herself, staring intently at the stiff white creatures.
The pond was making fishy noises, like bubble and droplet sounds. The clouds swam in sidestrokes across the sun. She pulled her knees in closer to her tummy and scowled as the birds began to contort and blur. She listened hard for the car. If he comes, I'll pray, I'll be nicer, I'll stop asking for things. Just let him. Let. Him. Come!
The spaces behind the heads and in between the wings now were pools of slimy water, and the necks turned, broken, in all kinds of wrong directions until the bodies had fully submerged.
"I knew they would sink. Why do you think I put them in the water? I made them sink!" she whispered furiously to her reflection.
Who needs him, she thought, and tomorrow we will make him not come again. Well, maybe we will give him another chance. If it rains tomorrow, he will come.