I’ve realized for some time now that I seem to possess an uncanny ability to extinguish streetlights. I’ll be walking along at night when the streetlight above my head suddenly blinks out. I can’t control this power consciously, and of course it doesn’t happen with every light I pass. But it does happen often enough to make me wonder whether I’m blessed, or cursed, with a form of telekinesis. There seems to be no good or bad use to be made of this power, but then again bending forks with mental energy isn’t about to save the world either.
Last night was a twin killing: two light-snuffings in a single half-hour walk. The first incident was ordinary enough: walking directly beneath the light fixture, the filament suddenly blows and goes dark. The second one, which happened about fifteen minutes later, traced a different arc. I was approaching the fixture, maybe thirty paces away, when the light went out — a more long-range influence than usual, but within acceptable tolerances for this sort of thing in my experience. As I passed directly under the lamp I looked up and noticed that the filament was still emitting just the slightest amount of yellowish-orange light. I walked on. About thirty paces past the streetlight I stopped, turned, and glanced back. In that instant, as I watched, the lamp switched to full-on brightness again. It was as if the lamp had been playing dead to trick me. I smiled in acknowledgment and headed for home.