[ WP ] You are a genie who 's been summoned by a child . You explain the whole `` three wishes '' deal , and to your surprise , after using two of the wishes , the kid tells you that they are going to `` keep the last wish for later '' . After 40 years , you are finally summoned again .

I recognize her the moment I appear. 
 
 She has aged well. At 52, her hair is still jet black, shoulder-length and wavy in that casual, effortless look so many people strive for. Her eyes are just as sharp as they were when she was 12, green to the point of distraction, passionate and flashing. 
 
 She starts a little. `` You came.'' There is surprise in her voice. 
 
 `` Of course,'' I say. It has been 40 years of radio silence but my oath has not disappeared. I am still bound to her, whether I like it or not. 
 
 She studies me like I am an interesting case and she does n't know how to proceed. She is a lawyer now, a well-known one too. I've watched her for the past 40 years. She is the oldest person I've ever served; all the others wished almost instantly. She is the only person who has ever waited. 
 
 `` The rules are still the same?'' she asks hesitantly. 
 
 I nod. 
 
 She studies me even more intently. `` I see,'' she says at last. `` Okay.'' 
 
 I met her when she was 11, 41 years ago. She had called me by accident, she did n't know how. I did n't know how either, only that I was now bound to her. She was an excitable, confused preteen, but she was smart. 
 
 The first thing she asked for was a thousand dollars to appear underneath her pillow every Monday. She could've asked for more - ten thousands or a million - but she was 11 and a thousand seemed like the world. And she'd gotten that, for the past 41 years, and she was comfortable and wealthy and never had to worry. 
 
 She called me again a year later. She wanted to know whether people liked her. `` Not a complicated, constant thing,'' I remember her saying. `` Just a yes/no thing. When I want to know, I want to just be able to know if someone likes me. If I ask, yes, no. That's all.'' 
 
 And I had given it to her, and she had used it ( less and less as she got older, though ). She'd used it on real friends and fake friends, possible boyfriends and exes, even the man who ended up being her husband. She'd simply known if they truly liked her or not. 
 
 Now I am back in her living room. I've watched her grow over the decades, mature into a successful, powerful woman. She is an exception. Usually, the ones that meet me end up going crazy. She survived. And she wants her final wish. 
 
 She looks away from me. `` Is n't there some sort of... time limit on this kind of thing?'' she asks hesitantly. 
 
 `` No,'' I respond. `` But usually people do n't wait this long.'' 
 
 A hint of a smile appears on her face. `` I did n't think so.'' 
 
 `` So what may I do for you?'' I have to admit that I'm curious. I thought she'd forgotten about me. 
 
 She turns back to me, her gaze piercing. `` Did you know I'm 52?'' she asks suddenly. 
 
 `` Yes,'' I say truthfully. `` It's been 40 years.'' 
 
 `` And... did you know I'm now considered old? Not middle-aged, old.'' This seems to amuse her and she smiles a bit wider. 
 
 I shake my head no. 
 
 `` No, neither did I. I definitely do n't feel old.'' 
 
 I do n't answer. She seems to forget I'm there for a moment, but then she's back. 
 
 `` I know my wish,'' she says confidently, loudly. The house is empty. Her kids are grown up and her husband is at work. 
 
 `` What would you like?'' I ask. 
 
 She is on the verge of a smirk. I can tell she's pleased with herself. She draws herself up, presents herself to me. 
 
 `` Genie,'' she announces. `` I want to go back. To when I was 12, to the last time I saw you. I want to become that person again. I want to go through life again. I want to live again.'' 
 
 I stare at her for a moment, at the rich and intelligent 52-year-old standing in front of me. She has had a good life, a lucky life. She has gotten everything she has ever wanted and she has been happy, I know she's been happy. She has had just the right amount of conflict, enough to keep her entertained. She has a job she loves, a husband she adores, kids she sees every other week. And she wants to try again, to go back. I have watched her build her life up, she has been my only success story, and she is throwing it all away. 
 
 She stares back at me defiantly, daring me to refuse. We both know I ca n't. 
 
 `` Okay,'' I sigh at last. `` Your wish is my command.''
