Vic worked an eight hour shift with a thirty minute break around late afternoon for lunch. But he usually stopped somewhere downtown for a bite to eat before he got to the bus garage. This morning it was a bit disconcerting—and more than a little fun, if he were honest—to wave a hand across the small end table by the front door to his apartment and watch his car keys jump eagerly into his palm. A gesture over his shoulder closed the door behind him, locking it for good measure as the keys floated a few inches nearby. On his way downstairs, the door to his building opened, waiting for him. Hinges contained metal, as did door knobs and locks. This power might not be so bad after all.
At the curb, his car jumped like an eager puppy when he walked around it, heading for the driver’s side. He
