Five Quiet Minutes After the Lights Went Out

Photo: Unsplash.

The power went out while I was deciding whether instant noodles counted as dinner.

My screen disappeared, the refrigerator stopped humming, and every apartment in the building made the same surprised sound through its walls. For a few seconds the whole street was dark. Then phone flashlights appeared in windows like cautious fireflies.

I went downstairs because standing beside a powerless kettle felt unproductive. The convenience-store owner was already outside, guarding three rapidly warming freezers. My upstairs neighbor brought a camping lantern. A child carried a toy lightsaber, which provided less illumination but much better morale.

Nobody knew what had happened, so we invented explanations. A transformer had failed. A bird had made a poor decision. The city was conducting an unannounced test of our personalities.

The restaurant across the road gave away bowls of ice cream before they melted. People who had shared an elevator for years without speaking compared flavors on the pavement. I learned that the quiet man from 5A repaired violins and that the woman with the orange bicycle had been receiving my grocery coupons by mistake.

Five minutes later, the lights returned. Air conditioners woke, signs flashed, and everyone looked briefly disappointed.

Upstairs, the kettle resumed exactly where it had stopped. I made the noodles anyway, but ate them by the window with the lamp off. The street below was ordinary again, except now I knew who owned the toy lightsaber.