A Flick of the Wrist

One second I was frozen mid-crouch above the crosswalk, and the next, a spark surged straight to my fingertips! I flexed my right hand, expecting stiff resin, but my fingers snapped cleanly outward in my classic web-shooting salute. Below my palm, the metal housing of the signal box hummed under my touch. I gave the corner of the street sign pole a playful tap with my knuckles—solid metal, real reverberation! I can actually balance, shift my weight, and move under this dusky evening sky. Best high perch ever.