They always said that Superman disguised himself as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet, but he never saw it that way. He was Clark Kent and he was in love with Lois Lane. Superman was a delusional fantasy dreamed up by his foster mother and made a reality by his supernatural abilities that, at times, he loathed.

Most days, Clark would sit at his small desk and type up a report on Superman’s latest actions; latest feats of strength. Of course he recalled them from memory, but he had to write them in the third person and omit details that would be impossible for a by-stander to know. The years piled on like this until he couldn’t actually recall any real memories as Superman, only what he read in the paper the next day — just like any other citizen.

It was Saturday and Clark had set aside the afternoon for a picnic in the Park with Lois. They had been dating for a while now, but work and his double life had taken its toll. He promised her today would be different.

Several years ago he figured out how suppress his innate abilities. He had done it throughout most of his childhood and it was only by accident in his teens that he even remembered he was different. He took small breaks from his powers so he could sleep, concentrate on work and spend time listening to Lois on the phone. His obligations would still haunt him, however, as he always allowed himself to hear, see or otherwise be aware the most desperate situations. But this Saturday, he was going to turn it completely off.

The day came and he fought the City traffic like anyone else would. He picked up Lois and they made their way to the Park. He even bought a special basket for the occasion, making it perfect and clichéd. Clark and Lois parked the car and slowly walked up a small knoll to the perfect spot. Clark’s dark hair was a bit messy in the breeze, matching Lois’ in color and texture. They really were perfect for each other, he thought.

Neither of them spoke much as they worked to prepare cold-cut sandwiches between gulps of red wine. His eyes smiled over his glasses as he took a bite of thick bread topped with mustard and salami. She looked younger today, more natural and loose. She was wearing a white sundress printed with small yellow flowers. She stole small timid glances at Clark, her hands playing in the grass. She felt like it was their very first date again, but this time he was there, really there.

They stayed until the sunlight waned and then headed back to Lois’ apartment. They went to bed early and made love well into the late night hours.

During Clark’s day off, a young girl was kidnapped, raped and beaten to death by a homeless man. A 16-wheeler jack-knifed on the bridge, killing the driver, injuring several others and stopping east-bound traffic for hours until it was finally pushed to the shoulder allowing two lanes of traffic to flow. The downtown bank was robbed by eight men dressed in black and armed with machine guns. They didn’t bother to subdue the last-minute Saturday bankers, rather they shot all 36. Only one survived and is still in critical condition at the hospital. Finally, gang warfare in the lower-west side resulted in six deaths, one of which was a 4-year-old boy caught in the cross-fire.

Clark would read it all the next morning over oatmeal and coffee.