It is not true, of course, that say the word “wish” and some sufflation like the breath of the Holy Ghost goes to work to grant it. But sometimes the utterance does move some airy element to activity, and one fine day . . . Wasn’t it you who wished for such and such? Well, behold! Hindle would be starting up that grand staircase between the bronze boy and girl statues on the newel posts holding up the branches lit with amber globes, she would be going down that wide upstairs hall to that polished door, turning the silver doorknob and walking into that bedroom all pale blue satin and Brussels lace. She would hear that china cottage clock covered with roses and tiny birds chime once, chime twice, glance up worriedly and see the back of it and her own white face reflected in the mirror over the mantel. Didn’t you want to be here? Wasn’t that you?
--From Variation West