Clark’s world was ending. He was sure of it. There was no going on from here because you were breaking up with him. He’d sensed there was something off with you at work today. You’d dodged him as much as you could and seemed sad every time you’d spoken. So he’d offered to walk you home, hoping he could figure out whatever was wrong. The two of you were in the park, the sun setting. There were a few people scattered her and there but they were far away. And he didn’t really care about the other people when you were looking him in the eye and telling him you weren’t good enough to date him. It was absurd. He was Clark, your Clark. That’s all he ever wanted to be with you. Why did it matter that he was Superman? “Please don’t do this.” He said, his voice strained.