Ann, I'm so glad to see you've been writing more! After your incredible Valentine's Day piece, I was so so so hoping you'd post more of your work.
This is such an interesting spin on the Tank/Wendy challenge. I was gripped the whole time; you've got lots of talent, lady.
The image you paint here is burned into my brain:
After being told about Monica Pearson's fate he had locked himself in a conference room, then stridden out of it, shirt open and S-shield showing, and mutely started clearing out his desk.
So powerful, and so heart-breaking. I can *see* Clark, sitting broken and alone in the conference room, then clenching his jaw in realization and striding into the newsroom, his shirt untucked and only half-buttoned, the Superman emblem clearly visible.
And then
this:
Stonily silent, his face grim and impenetrable, Clark was retiring the mild-mannered reporter while holding up the remnants of him for his co-workers and the world to see.
Oh, Ann — I thought you broke my heart in the previous sentence, but I was mistaken. It had only cracked. This just did me in. Poor Clark — it's over for him, he knows it. All he has left is a box of hollow memories.
Then, my heart constricted for Clark and Lois here:
Gathering up the belongings of the man who'd had the audacity to pretend he was a member of the human race, refusing to acknowledge the presence of his stunned co-workers, refusing to acknowledge Lois, Clark had walked slowly to the stairwell and out of the Daily Planet building, apparently forever. Standing silent and still on the sidewalk below, he had allowed the milling crowds to pay attention and to start gathering around him, until he had taken to the skies, flown north, and disappeared into the blue vastness above.
Such evocative writing, and it echoes the "loneliness of the long-distance runner" theme you've previously mentioned. It's just ... so achingly perfect.
I have to echo Nicole's comment; you delve right into the main issues with the insight in this piece. Thanks for sharing this with us on the boards, Ann — I can't wait to read the next installment.
