There are no lights on anywhere between Ikea and the I-90 tunnel on Mercer Island. Out the other end of the tunnel and looking across the lake, the only lights that can be seen are the headlights of a few cars and lights in the tops of skyscrapers peaking over Capitol Hill. I drive onto the bridge; the skyscrapers dip out of sight and the only headlights I see now are on the road around me. Over the bridge and up toward the (well-lit) second I-90 tunnel, I can make out little flickers of candlelight in nearby windows.
The power is on on the other side of the tunnel. It’s like it’s a whole different city here.