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Author's bio: Andrea Kriz moves wild laughter in the heart of Cambridge, MA. In addition to Daily Science Fiction, her work has appeared in Nature.
***Adult Story***
"He's gonna drop out of the sky and save us all," she explains.
Her John looks at her. She wouldn't even dare say it with a Fritz.
"You believe in Superman, kid?"
"Yeah. 'cause I saw him once."
"Yeah? What was he like?"
"Not real big. Just about the same size as you and me. He was lugging his cape around. This old red thing, rolled up in his arms. Guess it gets tiring carrying it on his back all the time."
"When was this?"
"Come on, you remember. Last summer, with that big hubbub going on. Crazy humid day like this. All those krauts melting out of their uniforms, don't even want to think what it must've been like for him. Must've been real hot."
A wave of pity sweeps over him, like the AC hacking through his firefighter's jacket draped over the two of them in this grimy motel room--because that's a carpet hauler she's describing. When Obergruppen-whatsit-fuhrer Heydrich and his entourage came to visit they had them running miles ahead, like ants around the city, to unfurl the red ribbons at their feet. He could wreck it too, say something like, oh yeah, Superman, what, was he toking up when the A-bomb dropped? Or he just watched it happen, stood with the Bryant Park junkies over blazing books yesterday, maybe, while they pawed past the firebreak for pages to snort coke off of later.... But when they're done he leaves a few bucks extra on the bedside table, chucks her under the chin.
"That's great, kid. You keep believing in Superman."
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, March 2nd, 2017
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