There were three wishes made.
The gathering last week was to celebrate the engagement of him to her, and it coincided with a birthday that he wanted to keep quiet.
The scene at the dinner table - three opposite three. On this side, in by the fire and away from the cold, there sat the dialysis crew. Me, him and another.
Across the way, his fiancée, still getting used to her title, and two good friends down through years of the happy and the sad.
The cake was brought out and the song sung badly. He blew out the candle, for it was his special night, but being the way he is, he thought of us too.
The tea light on the table was used to set the wick aglow again, and it was passed along.
His fellow hostages of the same misfortune duly took their moment, registered their wish, and exhaled a laboured breath from bodies broken.
Bad luck to tell anybody what you wished for, but easy to know that on this night, with these three, the same request was made in triplicate.
No more thought was given to it. Until last night, when he got the call.
He has just come out of surgery. Transplant done. His wish fulfilled.