Eddie Marrow: The Electric Touch

They called him a myth. A whisper in a dark alley. A glitch in the system. But I saw him. Not in a dream, not in some fevered hallucination, but through the lens of a journalist trained to separate fact from fiction. I watched a man walk through a storm without an umbrella, his feet never touching puddles, his hand humming with a voltage that made the air around him pulse like a living thing.