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and it had taken Clark several hours to discover that he died days before the email had been sent.
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“Hey, Mum! Who’s at the door?” Ms. Gilbert’s son asked as he jumped down the stairs, bouncing a soccer ball from knee to knee.

“Just a man, and, Dylan, how many times have I told you not to play football in the house?” Ms. Gilbert called back.
Oh. Duh!

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There’s been some kind of cock-up. You must want my uncle: Theodore Dylan Gilbert,
Oooh!

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Clark knew the answer before he asked the question. “Where might I reach your uncle, Ms. Gilbert?”

“In heaven. He died before Nightfall, Mr. Kent.
Oops? Unless…

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In the ensuing chaos, I had difficulty gathering his friends and colleagues for the memorial service,” Ms. Gilbert said. “It’s sad really. Uncle Dylan would have been one of the few who would have loved Nightfall. I’m sorry he missed it.”
Yeah, sounds like he got knocked off just in time.

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“I can introduce Dylan to Superman.”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.
wave Michael


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