He liked to play pinball in the pub. It was mostly because it meant he didn't have to talk to or even make eye contact with other people while he enjoyed a pint.
The lights and sounds were soothing to him and it allowed him to tune out the meaningless sports-based chatter of the other patrons.
He pressed the left flipper and sent the ball way up to the back of the machine where it bounced back and forth, his score increasing and nearing his own personal record.
"Sorry, mate."
A man bumped into him, distracting him enough to lose his focus. The ball passed between the flippers. Game over.
He turned around and saw the man who was sorry walking away. He shot a bolt of lightning out of his fingertips and knocked him to the ground.
Nobody said a word as he fed another coin into the pinball machine.
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