Rub Some Dirt On It

Clark was tiring of his routine at The Daily Planet. Perhaps it started with his wardrobe, or maybe it was the traffic. Neither of which was as comfortable or expedient as his alternatives. He sized up his opportunities. He didn't really want Perry's job and he could hardly go back to Jimmy's. And then there were the deadlines - because they were daily, and you were only as good as your last contribution to The Planet.

Maybe that was it. Did work provide him with a sense of fulfillment? It wasn't at all clear Clark had ever even written an article.

And the duality of his life only added to its unmanageability. He had created the duality as a solution. Now it seemed only to add to his problems.

Or, maybe it was the Kryptonite. He had to admit, he was powerless over it.

But then his thoughts returned to the people of Metropolis. His peeps had become accustomed to living in a world where truth, justice, and the American way prevailed. Who else would fight for them?

Maybe Atlas would still shrug, but not this day. Clark knew that he still loved his peeps. And with that he suited up, rode the bus to work once again with his spirit lifted.