She didn’t trust the streetlights.
The bushes and trees at the edge of the orange glow always seemed to be rippling, even when the wind was still.
The sky overhead never seemed to have quite enough stars at it rightly should have had.
It wasn’t strictly the fault of the lights, that was true, but it was related, so she blamed them.
The dark space directly below the light was also concerning, but it had always been like that, no matter where she had lived, so she’d just assumed that every light was like that, but they didn’t usually smile.