Clark Kent (clarklike) wrote,
Clark Kent
clarklike

Clark sits down on his bed and lays back, closing his eyes. For the first time in ten days, he goes more than five minutes without listening in on something, or looking in on something. For more than five minutes, it’s all about him, private, without eavesdropping or spying or invading others’ privacy.

Clark relaxes, and stretches. The muscles that control his eyeballs feel stressed and sore –– a rarity for him, but utterly reasonable, given how much strain he’d been putting on himself for the past week.

It's over. It's finally over.

Cabot's gone.
Tags: verse: paradisa
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