Motion Sensor Porch Darkness

It was nine o'clock at night, and nearing the end of a rainy New England October, that meant it was dark. The Walker walked on the edge of the street, heeding the local custom of avoiding the unshoveled sidewalks. There was no snow yet, just moisture, but it was habit. Everyone walks on the streets. The Walker was wearing cargo pants and a dull hoodie pulled over his golf cap. He was finishing off the crust of his peanut butter banana sandwich as he walked, but he looked just disheveled enough to be pegged as a cigarette smoker from a distance.

The moon was stuck behind a curtain of diaphanous clouds but the streets were dimly yet consistently lit from an unending corridor of dim porch lights. Seeing the nearest stop sign illuminate itself with the glow of a car distantly behind him, the Walker crossed a poorly kept grass strip onto the craggly sidewalk. Immediately the porch light whose walkway he had entered sensed his motion and shut itself off. He had finished his crust by this point. The Walker continued on, past the next porch, which also darkened itself. The next did the same. They remained dark for some time as the Walker continued on, carrying the darkness with him everywhere he went. The moon shone brighter as he passed under it.