‘Oh Gods.’ He thought to himself as he lurched out of the chair towards the bathroom.
‘It’s not supposed to be so painful.’
He shook out three ibuprofen and an old pain-med from a previous injury.
‘I’ve read the comics, watched the movies, recorded the T.V. shows. No where do the heroes even show the pain I feel right now.’ He muttered as he filled the jelly jar with his nightly Bourbon and Coke to wash the pills down.
He had told his doctor he hurt his back wrestling the floor sander out of and back into the truck. But in reality he had felt it go, heard the tendons pop and the muscles tear as he pushed his way through the cinderblock wall into the burning building on the way back from dropping the sander off.
And for what? Why did he do it? Did he actually save anyone?
No.
Of course not, they had all gotten out with the first hint of smoke and heat.