Power Outage

By Roshni Riar, Staff Writer


Rain sloshes down in heavy sheets,

distorts our view from behind the

windows. A lady stands at the bus stop


outside. Her umbrella jolts and spasms

in her white-knuckled grip, tendons

taught as she fights to maintain control.


She doesn’t know the neighbourhood

watches her, our last form of entertainment

in the quiet hum of an unwilling reset.

We shift, restless. She stares down the


street, desperate as rain pools at her feet.

It’s a sad act playing out in front of us

but she’s the best we’ve got. She must not

know the buses have been cancelled.


We found out as much before it all went

black. A vicious wind rips at her umbrella

and she reels, struggles to stay dry.


Another tug takes it down

the street. As she clambers after it,

the lights come back to life.


The TV flickers on.


We turn our heads, resume our lives.

Her temporary distraction no longer needed,

forgotten as a blushing newscaster fumbles

to catch up on everything we missed.