So then a bunch of things happened that would take a novel to explain. I eventually left the light bulb store, but not before encountering my maker, a girl by the name of April M____. The experiments in the backroom were all in an effort to contact her. She had, for some unknown reason, taken a liking to me (perhaps my laidback way of speech or the way I anticipate events far in advance) and paid me a visit one evening after all the frizzy haired galoots had left for the evening. I recognized her immediately in the one shadowy, unilluminated corner of the store, like you would a storm, when I realized that the only real electric presence in the room was her. April sat down in a lawn chair embroidered in neon light tubing and looked at me, reticent and unwanting. I stood dumbfounded behind the cashier counter. I knew her name, I knew the contents of her closets, I knew her most cherished memories, I knew her future joys and nadirs - and still a void remained. In the core of her, there remained a hard impenetrable nugget of nothing that constituted her present. She knew what was going to happen to me, yet she wouldn’t tell me a thing. It was the most disturbing thing I encountered during my employment at the light bulb shop.
