The Lamppost That Knew Too Much

It started small. The lamp would flicker, very slightly, when Mrs Halloran walked past with her ill-tempered terrier. It flickered with what could only be described as judgement.

By mid-October, the lamppost had moved on to mild commentary. When the postman dropped a parcel, it brightened just a fraction, as if applauding. When the council put up a banner advertising the autumn fete in the wrong font, it dimmed for a full minute.

The street learned to read it the way one reads a quiet relative. Bright meant approval. Flicker meant disappointment. A long, slow fade was the lamppost's way of saying it would prefer not to be involved.

In December, the council tried to replace it with an efficient LED model. The lamppost dimmed itself, very theatrically, for three days running. The workmen sighed, packed up their van, and left. The street has been brighter ever since, in the ways that matter.