The midday sun shone brightly, but still Graeme Macintosh sighed as walked through the park, terribly depressed. All he wanted to do was have a kid with his wife Carol, but after years of trying and failing, a visit to the fertility clinic had revealed that he was mostly infertile. Graeme's lazy sperm (if he even had any) had let him and Carol down in the worst way.
Today he was going back to the clinic for his final results, where he would find out how bad the situation was and if he and Carol could ever have a child of their own. He was expecting the worst.
He passed the well at the centre of the park and decided to make a wish for luck. Reaching into his suit pocket, he withdrew some loose change and tossed it into the well.
"I wish I could get my wife pregnant," Graeme muttered so nobody else would hear. Looking at his watch, he gasped, "Oh crap, I'm late! Gotta get to that appointment!"
Graeme made a beeline for the edge of the park where his car was parked and then drove off to the fertility clinic.
