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.