The mountain was steep, and climbing it at noon, during the hottest part of the day, was exhausting. Felicia knew better than to rush; she paused periodically to rest, buying water from vending machines and taking a few sips before continuing. She had to admit that well-trained individuals were different. Stanley was doing remarkably well, not even out of breath despite the grueling climb. At one point, he offered her a sturdy tree branch as a hiking stick, an offer she declined. Her own rigorous training had greatly improved her endurance; this climb posed no real challenge.
By the time they reached the summit, a refreshing breeze swept over them. Felicia first went to the old tower, its towering structure silently bearing the marks of time, yet still majestic. A little further on stood the ancient tree, lush and vibrant, its branches adorned with countless red ribbons and small wooden plaques, their varying shades testifying to their age. The plaques swayed in the wind, producing a crisp, melodious sound.
She stood beneath the tree, gazing upward before saying, "Do you see that plaque at the very top? Help me take it down." Stanley, momentarily stunned—this was the first time Felicia had asked him for specific help—immediately leaped up, using the branch to dislodge the plaque, catching and handing it to her.
Felicia flipped it over. It was the plaque she had helped Carmen hang years ago. The delicate, neat handwriting had faded slightly but remained legible, filling the entire surface with tiny words. She remembered Carmen carefully shielding it as she wrote, her expression serious. Felicia had teased her, calling her greedy. Yet, none of the wishes were for Carmen herself; every single one was for Felicia.
"I wish for Felicia to be happy every day and to stay safe. I wish for Felicia to face less hardship and that someone will cherish her more. I hope that everything will always go smoothly for Felicia."
Tears welled up in Felicia's eyes when she read the last words. "Why didn't you make a wish for yourself, you silly girl?" she whispered. Running her fingers over the faded script, sorrow and guilt washed over her, aching in her heart.
Felicia closed her eyes briefly, then, using a small knife, carved a message on the back of the plaque. With a quick toss, it landed firmly on the highest branch. "Let's go," she said, pocketing the knife and turning to Stanley. He, curious about her carving, wanted to ask but hesitated, silently following her.
On the other side of the summit was the chapel the shop owner had mentioned—a small building, its white walls and black tiled roof weathered and worn. The paint was peeling, revealing bare patches.
Felicia ascended the steps. As she reached the top, a gust of wind carried the sound of a bell. Simultaneously, her phone rang. Without looking, she silenced the call. She searched for the bell's source, but despite the chapel's clean, open surroundings, she found none. She circled the area thoroughly, even searching inside the chapel, but to no avail.
Stanley, increasingly bewildered, finally asked, "Ma'am, what exactly are you looking for?"