I kissed Jenny and the lights went out. I’m not sure whose fault it was or why exactly it happened because, to be honest, it wasn’t a very good kiss. But she appreciated it, at least.

Jenny smelled like lemons and formaldehyde, probably because she lived in an old funeral home. She was pretty in that way you tell plain girls that they’re pretty, and she was too attached to her pet rat Percy. I thought it was short for Percival, but she said it wasn’t. Oh, and apparently she made the power short out when she kissed people.

“I might be the only thing keeping the world lit,” she said, staring up at the stars. With all the lights out, they were so bright. The tip of her cigarette lit her face with a red-orange glow.

“You’re prettier with the lights out,” I told her. She smiled.

“Maybe that’s why this keeps happening, then.”