Superman has been missing two weeks. Clark’s been…well, Clark’s been missing for so much longer than that, but the numbers cut into her soul like blades so she usually avoids spelling it out for herself.
Her soul is not the only bleeding one right now...
Give up on it all because none of it is what it once was and she’s tired of realizing that anew every morning.
She thinks, though (in some tiny, hidden, damped part of her mind), that she’d give almost anything for him to be here right now, sitting across from her, cocking his eyebrow at the half-empty glass in her hands, saying…
Saying nothing.
<Gut is punched> Then again, knowing him, he might not have said anything even if they were still best friends and the Superman expose hadn't happened.
“J-Jimmy?” she asks, and cannot even fault herself for stumbling, because this cannot be the young, earnest, eager-to-please kid she’s missed so much.
I kind of wondered for a moment when he came in. Lois, try to hold onto this single, narrow shaft of sunlight.
Lois looks at him and thinks that this secret identity, this alter ego, is just as good as Clark’s was.
WOW. Love it.
She feels, then, as if she is the young cub reporter, all nervous anxiety and hopeless awkwardness.
Love this image.
He is tired. He is worried.
He is afraid.
