Pandora’s Box
By Nancy V. Sont
He sat at his large desk and twirled his pencil, remembering. Clark about to open the storage room window. Disappearing under the desk. Pulling on his tie. Running out. His partner always rescued. Sonic booms after he’d leave. Superman stories in his lap. Superman his close friend.
“Kent! My office!”
“Yes, Chief?”
“It may be Pandora’s Box, but you’re going to sit here until you tell me everything.”
“Everything, sir?”
Perry nodded slowly, bore into his eyes and enunciated, “EV-RY-THING!”
Clark raised his eyebrows. “Everything?”
“What? There’s an echo in here?”
Clark shifted uncomfortably.
It's always such an embarrassment. Having to do away with someone. It's like announcing to the world that you lack the savvy and the finesse to deal with the problem more creatively. I mean, there have been times, naturally, when I've had to have people eliminated, but it's always saddened me. I've always felt like I've let myself down somehow.
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