When I found the shoebox again, there were more poems inside, and
a battered, old device: a switch of some kind. I actually had to go and ask
about it in the local hardware store to be sure what it was. It’s an old light
switch. When you flick it, there’s a solid, satisfying click. When I flicked it
the first time after finding it, all the lights in the house went out. I swear
I’m not making this up. It turned out to be the whole neighborhood actually, and
the real reason for the power out turned out to be the thunderstorm rumbling
above. But talk about a coincidence of a lifetime! I’ve flicked the switch many
times after that and nothing strange has happened.
I can't explain where this new stuff came from. Someone broke into my house and put it there? That makes no sense.
