As Jon made his wish, a young man was sitting in the food court at the local mall, a popular hangout for people of all ages at different times of day.
Teenagers hung out there, as did the elderly, as well as families with children. At different times of day, the crowds were different.
The young man, whose name was Todd, sat alone in a corner and wrote in a notebook. Today, he'd just bought a fresh notebook. Invariably, after he wrote for a while, he'd tear out what he wrote and get rid of it.
He was a rather unsuccessful writer. He wasn't a professional. He did it as a hobby, and he enjoyed it immensely. But he never seemed to be happy with his work...or perhaps it was he jumped to a new idea.
He was great at setting a scene and developing characters, but they never seemed to turn into a story. He sighed, having run into another writer's block. He tore the pages out, crumpled them up, and disposed of them along with the remains of his lunch.
Unknown to him, however, the crumpled pages had fallen off the tray and had ended up on the floor, where they were picked up by a stranger.
