Sometimes Superman Wears Sweats

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.” The moon was back – a star, too. Or perhaps it was a plane.

 

Or a bird. Or Superman.

 

Except Superman was right here beside me.

 

Impulsively I clutched Steve’s arm. “You’re boarding up the window, right? Tight?”

 

“Correct. Not even the Big Bad Wolf’ll be able to blow it down.”

 

I pushed the gun toward him. “Then thanks but no thanks. I won’t need it. My luck, I’d accidentally wind up shooting myself instead of the bad guys anyway.”

 

“Naw, don’t need a gun to do that,” said Steve. “I have the sore toes to prove it.”

 

Then, leaving me to ponder whatever it was he had meant by that, he let himself into the wind to fetch some wood to keep me safe through the storm.

 

 

 

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