Vista looks at the thirteen candles on her birthday cake. She screws up her eyes, takes a deep breath, and blows them out.
She wishes for respect.
When the sirens start, she's almost exhilarated. Everyone turns out. The Wards, the Protectorate, the Triumvirate. She stands among them, and nobody questions her.
Missy kneels in muddy water, struggling to restart a grown man's heart.
He sputters and a final puff of air escapes him. It's not enough to blow out a single candle.
Missy steps back over compressed space, and leaves the body to the wave. She makes no more wishes.