I sit on the edge of the bed, listening to the crying. It goes on and on. For every trough there’s a new peak. Sometimes it seems like she’s been crying for years. I take my head out of my hands and I turn around. I go to hold her, but she slaps me away. This is the part. This part. Take the Kryptonite in both hands. Hold it close. Hold her close.

It burns, as it always does. I feel my strength flow out. I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. I don’t have muscles of steel. I’m not bulletproof. I’m just a man.

The sobs subside. Not much, but it’s enough. She weakens. I grip tighter. Like a bear. Like a big, protective bear. Arms encompassing, becoming her whole world. I am shelter. I am warmth. I will make it better. It’s what I do.

Soon I don’t know who is holding who. All I know is I can’t stop holding. It hurts more than anything, but it’s more important than anything too. I’m only a man, but I’m the only man. That’s the deal. I’m only a man looking for a dream, and it’s not easy to be me.