For one perfect evening, he wasn’t the last son of Krypton.
Later, after the biscuits were golden brown and the tractor belt was fixed (without a single twisted piece of metal), they sat on the porch swing as the sun bled orange and purple across the horizon. clarkandmartha
protects his soul from the isolation that his powers might otherwise cause. For one perfect evening, he wasn’t the last son of Krypton
“We saw you. In Metropolis. On the news.” For one perfect evening
He was just Clark. And Martha was just his mom. And that was more than enough.
She didn’t offer platitudes. She didn’t say you’re doing important work or God gave you this gift for a reason . She just reached over and took his flour-dusted hand in hers.
“Okay, Ma,” he whispered.