Harriet, 52, Recent Widow

Harriet smiled a sad smile looking down on the grave of her husband, her umbrella keeping the rain at bay. A small tear dripped down her cheek. She smiled, remembering the fun they'd both had during their 30 years of marriage.

What fun they'd had together. 2 beautiful children, a large house, many holidays. She'd cherished every moment.

*ahem*

Behind her a man coughed, she turned around, he was a strange looking man. Tall, thin, dark sunglasses covered his eyes, resting on his almost none existent nose. The rain seemed to avoid him, despite the lack of umbrella.

He held out his hand, in it, a notepad.

"This is for you," he said, coldly.

Harriet reached out and took it, she was about to thank him and ask why, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She looked at the notepad once more, it had a note,

"Write what you want to happen. Use wisely, and use well."

Harriet had no pen on her, so she rushed home. Opening her front door, she grabbed for the pen on the side, and put it to the paper.