Does anyone ever really get what they want? Martha asked herself. Maybe. But people always want something else once they reach their initial

goal. That's why there are so many miserable successful people out there. Because once you have it all, what else is there? She certainly wanted

more. More time with her husband, time with her son, time for all the dreams she had put off with the thought of "tomorrow" or "next year". She

had been so certain of that time being in front of her, and now it was just a mockery of wasted moments and months and years... After all,

doesn't everyone assume that they get to grow old, retire,...watch their child grow up? Martha certainly had.

The boy was so young too. A flare of anger interrupted the cruel pain in her body. Bruce is too young. It isn't fair! But plenty of things weren't

fair. It wasn't because of fairness that she was wealthy while others are poor. It wasn't the world being fair that granted her beauty rather than

plain looks, or health where others had been born into and raised in hospitals. No one earned being born. It isn't reasonable to think that the

universe cares much what its occupants think they deserve. Still, it felt as though a great injustice had been dealt to her child.

Although she couldn't move, Martha fixed the image of her horrified son in her mind. She had no idea what would become of him; whether the

attacker would leave him alive or not. All she knew were the eyes of her child, traumatized and tearful. She did not have the strength to move

her eyelids, let alone comfort the boy as any mother would wish to. You'll be okay. Alfred will take good care of you. I love you. You'll be fine

without us. I promise. But not even a gasp could be brought to her lips, imprisoned in an unresponsive body. And then dead. She knew that was

next, moments away. Whatever death was like, she would soon find out. And Thomas. He had gone down first. Optimism would have suggested

to her that perhaps he would survive by the miracle of modern medicine, but she knew that he was likely dead before she even hit the ground. All

that was left was Bruce and his future.

Martha couldn't have what she wanted, but maybe she could have a new dream. She wouldn't live to see it, but as her thoughts lost their

crispness, she gathered what she could of her consciousness to will her wish into being. Make it out of this. See all of your tomorrows. Don't let

today define your future.

But doesn't everyone suffer from wishful thinking?