Super

You’d probably call it spying, but how else to know when I should come? Sounds are a bit muffled after all this time. My body feels battered; too many buildings leapt at a single bound wreaked havoc on my joints. I’m not as fast either, for speeding bullets whiz by me, and this famous cape I still wear drags in the wind. Lois passed years ago, and where is Lex? Running some nursing home into the ground; I’ve no doubt. Yes, I fly lower and peer through your windows. I need you all now, more than you ever needed me.

From Guest Contributor Colleen Addison

Speaker Blowout

Lisa peered through the curtains, watching an unfamiliar man, presumably her neighbor, drag four heavy-duty concert speakers onto the lawn across the way.

She'd never actually seen this man before, despite her moving in twenty-two years ago. But his yard was always well maintained and trash left out every week.

She wondered why he'd appeared now. Two decades of curiosity and, if she admitted it to herself, spying, and she'd learned hardly a thing about him.

As the song, Every Breath You Take, played on repeat for the next 72 hours before a deputy arrived, Lisa never understood the irony.