It had been a good day.
Clark stirred through the chunks of steak as they sizzled in the pan.
A good day - a day of constant activity - both physical and mental.
For so long, there had been no outlet for the tumult of thoughts that plagued him. In the prison, he could do nothing - so they had piled up, twisting and churning to create a fragmented mass of confusion.
Even in the car as he'd travelled with Lois, there had been no way to take positive action to deal with his fears and uncertainties.
But today ...
When he'd seen something needing attention, he'd located the necessary tools and done the job - quickly, efficiently, satisfyingly.
And being active with his hands had unshackled his mind.
Thanks!
Corrina.
