[ WP ] - A old man tells the story of his superpower , and the reason he never used it .

`` Every action,'' he used to start, like it was the first time we had heard it, `` Every action has an equal or opposite reaction. It's just that. Every push has a pull. Do n't forget it.'' 
 I was eight.The first time I actually heard it, I was holding a frozen steak to my eye. The old man held his jaw clenched as he spoke. “ Every action, son. ” The other boy had gotten a much bigger bruise, I later found out. Had shattered his knuckle against my eye socket. 
 
 I was eighteen. The car was in ruins in the driveway, the mailbox in pieces on the street. “ Every action, kid, ” he said, “ Nothing ’ s free. You can ’ t just take without leaving something, you know? ” 
 
 Some people never really smell death. They ’ re never around to see the life leave something. I was twenty six the first time, the old man in and out of consciousness in the hotel cot, and I just knew. I could see the soul leaving him, escaping out of the nooks of his body. Smoke from the ears, the light of him pressing against his mouth. I just knew. I could reach over and push it back into him if I wanted. Maybe give him another ten years. 
 Every action, I thought, every push has a pull. 
 
 I just saw it. That was all. I could see the life of people, caged inside their rib cages. Like some people can smell color, or taste sounds. It was just a thing. But, more than that, I knew I could do something with it. I could pull it out of them. Push it back in, if I wanted. Instinct. 
 But there were rules, and I followed them. 
 I knew, just knew, that it was n't something I could do. Most people don ’ t jump off of ledges when they ’ re near them, even when they know they could. It just was n't natural. 
 I've seen eight people die now. I ’ m eighty three. Never touched a soul when it was happening. I was good. 
 Every action, kid. 

