Elena leaned against the wall of her bedroom, defeated. The closet door creaked ominously as another cascade of clothes spilled out, burying her feet. Dresses, coats, shoes, scarves—they poured out endlessly, covering every inch of her floor. What had started as a dream come true had turned into an unmanageable nightmare. Somewhere in the chaos, her cat yowled plaintively, likely trapped under a pile of blouses.

The knock on the door was a welcome distraction. She stumbled her way to the entryway, kicking aside piles of clothes, and opened the door to find two unusual visitors.

The first was a short, stocky man in a crumpled suit. His tie, a jarring shade of neon yellow, looked like it had been chosen in protest of good taste. He carried a plain, worn briefcase and wore the expression of someone who had spent all day solving problems that weren’t his fault.

The second was Elena’s genie, Zara, who swept into the room without waiting for an invitation. Her golden skin shimmered faintly, and her violet robes flowed behind her like a trail of starlight. She took one look at the mountain of clothes overtaking the apartment and grinned, clearly pleased with herself.

“Elena Harper?” the man asked, stepping carefully over a pair of stilettos that had somehow ended up in the middle of the entryway.

“Yes,” Elena said, gesturing dramatically at the mess. “I assume you’re here to fix this, right?”

The man nodded. “I’m Alan Khazam, genie lawyer. I represent Zara in all legal matters regarding your wishes. I understand there’s been… dissatisfaction with the results of your first wish?”

“Dissatisfaction?” Elena barked out a laugh. “I wished for a closet that never runs out of clothes, and now it’s exploded! Every time I open the door, more stuff pours out! I can’t even find my bed anymore!”

Zara plopped onto a chair that was half-buried under a pile of scarves. “You said you wanted a closet that never runs out. That’s exactly what I gave you. You’re welcome.”

Elena threw up her hands. “You think this is funny? My apartment looks like a department store threw up in it!”

Alan cleared his throat, pulling out a glowing scroll from his briefcase. “Let’s review the exact wording of your wish, shall we?” He unrolled the parchment and read aloud. “‘I wish for a closet that never runs out of new clothes, so I always have something to wear.’ Is that correct?”

“Yes!” Elena shouted, crossing her arms. “But I didn’t mean this!”

Zara smirked, plucking a stray necklace from a nearby lampshade. “You mortals always assume I know what you mean. My sister Aria, the mind-reader genie, might’ve figured out what you wanted, but she’s impossible to book. Me? I work with what I’m given.”

Alan adjusted his glasses. “Genie law is very clear: as long as the wish doesn’t break the three genie rules—no killing, no forcing love, and no infinite sandwiches—wishes are fulfilled based on their exact wording, not intent.”

Elena frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Wait. I thought the third rule was no bringing people back from the dead.”

Zara groaned, rolling her eyes. “Why does everyone think that? I can absolutely bring people back from the dead. It’s just messy—there’s crying, existential dread, a lot of screaming. Frankly, it’s exhausting. But infinite sandwiches? That’s a logistical nightmare.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “How is that worse than resurrecting someone?”

“Because sandwiches pile up!” Zara snapped, standing up and waving her arms. “They fill your house, your fridge, your life. The bread goes stale, the mayonnaise curdles, and soon you’re swimming in soggy regret. Do you know how many people have begged me to undo that wish? It’s not worth the paperwork!”

Alan cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Let’s stay focused, please. As I was saying, Zara has complied with the terms of your request. The closet never runs out, and you always have new clothes.”

“I didn’t mean I wanted this many clothes!” Elena snapped. “I just wanted some variety, not an avalanche every time I open the door!”

“Not my fault you didn’t specify,” Zara said with a shrug. “You said ‘never runs out,’ so that’s what I gave you. You’ve got enough clothes to last ten lifetimes. Honestly, I think I nailed it.”

Elena groaned, rubbing her temples. “What are my options?”

Alan carefully stepped over a pile of leggings. “You have three options. First, you could use your second wish to amend the first. However, I must caution you to phrase it with extreme precision to avoid unintended consequences.”

“Like what?” Elena asked.

“Well,” Alan said, “if you wished for the closet to stop producing clothes entirely, you might lose access to the ones you already have. Or if you wished for it to produce fewer clothes, you’d need to define exactly how much ‘fewer’ means, or Zara could interpret it creatively.”

Elena sighed. “And the second option?”

Alan gestured toward Zara. “You could renegotiate with Zara to reinterpret the original wish. This would involve mutual agreement and likely require a concession from you.”

Zara grinned, her golden eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, I’d be happy to tweak the closet. Maybe make it refill once a month instead of constantly. But in exchange, I’ll need something. Like… your coffee table. I’ve been meaning to redecorate my lamp, and that would look perfect in there.”

Elena blinked. “You want my coffee table?”

Zara shrugged. “What can I say? I like the aesthetic. Lamps don’t exactly come with built-in furniture, you know.”

Elena groaned. “What’s the third option?”

Alan straightened his tie. “You do nothing. The wish remains as it is, and you adapt to the consequences.”

“Adapt?!” Elena threw up her hands. “How am I supposed to adapt to this?”

“Storage solutions?” Alan offered. “Or you could start a clothing resale business. Some clients have turned their wishes into profitable ventures.”

Elena stared at him, horrified. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Zara stood, brushing imaginary dust off her robes. “Look, darling, I’m offering you a good deal here. Give me the coffee table, and I’ll fix your closet. Or don’t, and enjoy your new career as a walking thrift store. Your choice.”

Elena groaned, glancing between Zara and the sea of clothes covering her apartment. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. Take the coffee table.”

Zara grinned triumphantly and snapped her fingers. Instantly, the mountain of clothes vanished, leaving the apartment spotless. The closet door swung open, revealing a neatly arranged selection of outfits. No more overflowing, no more chaos.

“There,” Zara said, eyeing the coffee table. “I’ll send someone to pick that up later.”

Alan adjusted his briefcase and tipped his head slightly. “If you have further issues, Ms. Harper, you know how to reach me.”

Zara smirked on her way to the door. “And next time you make a wish, maybe think it through first. Saves us all a lot of trouble.”

As the door closed behind them, Elena stared at her now-spotless apartment, letting the quiet sink in. After a long moment, she muttered, “I’m never making another wish again.”