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You stare at her when she's walking down the hall, hips swaying,
smiling to everyone she sees. She's a picture perfect poster child
for what the world wants to be, and she's trapped down here in
Smallville.
Sighing, you return to your office, to the computer where you'll
write your next, brilliant article, because you can turn nothing
into something, and in something lies the possibility to create
something more.
Your fingers fly over the keyboard, you're racking your mind for
every detail you've been told, this is going to be good. You don't
like being negative, even if the negative was being pulled away from
the big city, to come live here.
And you really did think it was going to be hell, because hey,
adjustments might be your thing, just never in this scale. But, as
you keep reminding yourself, an investigative journalist is an
investigative journalist, and changes is what a investigative
journalist do, so you pained yourself through it, and when you came
out on the other side, you found it wasn't that bad at all.
Ok, so it might be smaller than Metropolis, ok, so getting your
outrageous haircuts have become harder to do, ok, so people here are
alittle like you thought they'd be. Townsfolk.
But no matter how hard it ever was, when you first laid eyes on her,
you just knew, somehow, sometime, it would all be worth it. And
you're trying so hard, you're doing your best, awaiting your chance,
you'll know it when you see it, you've been prepared for so long,
watching pink glossed lips shape words that tends to just float
around her and soothe you into a content universe of bliss.
Even when you every day look at her, withher boyfriend Whitney,
who's a nice guy, but you can't stand him, 'cause she's going to be
yours, and Clark's drooling, that you really don't pay much
attention to, because her eyes have begun to linger, sometimes, you
know, 'cause you've caught her staring at you in the showers, and
sometimes when you're wearing something that shows your legs or
cleavage.
You're good, you're the best, and the clues could only lead to one
thing; some day, rather soon, you'll get what you want.
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