Raw emotions. you have something nice going on here Sorcha.
Can I get you a high-sugar, high-saturated-fat, fully-caffeinated cup of coffee, Clark? You realise at this rate you're going to develop diabetes before you're thirty, right, Clark?
Just the right touch.
How *dare* he? How dare he be not-home, when it had taken so much effort for her to just knock? It was so inconsiderate, and *so* like him.
Reality has't got anything on Lois Lane.
She exhaled, trying to get rid of the painful heavy lump sitting on her chest. A sudden, petrifying thought occurred to her - had *he* felt like that, like there was nothing beautiful left - because of her? Had he hurt like this - because of her?
<Oh, Clark...>
<Maybe he's *still* hurting like this because of you...>
She swallowed, shook her head. It wasn't possible. Not after six months of nothingness. He... he was fond of her, yes, maybe, but he didn't... he couldn't. Not really... surely?
Experience, the greatest of all teachers.
Oh, and the somebody monologue was the crowning touch.
