After a day spent walking around several floors of an office building, I could feel the massive buildup of static electricity that had built up between my leg hairs and the cheap polyester trousers I had bought. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, my calves were positively crackling as I made my easy to the swanky lift with its mirrored doors and brushed metal buttons. As keen as I was to get home, my finger held midway towards the call button.
There was an instinctive hesitation and I felt the inevitability of what was about to happen. Like the buzz in the air before a thunderstorm, I knew the lightning bolt was about to strike and I pondered how best to mark the occasion. I considered blasphemy or a foolhardy claim of which I was felt sure that I could be struck down dead.
In the end, though, there was just one word that came to mind. I whispered it as I completed the connection between my organic capacitor and the conductive surface of the elevator button.


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