"Incredible Insurance, this is Bob; how may I help you?" Bob's pen slid over his notepad and suddenly stopped. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what came through your office? ...Big muscly green guy?" Bob glanced over at the TV in the corner of his office at the news coverage and nodded.
A super.
"Yes, ma'am, you're covered for that… yes ma'am, within the month. We've been swamped with claims, but we're processing everything as quickly as we can… Expedited…?"
Bob rubbed his forehead before lowering his voice.
"On our website, I'd suggest you search for form ID-79. That's all I can tell you. But I didn't tell you that, okay?"
He smiled as he hung up slowly and looked out his window at the smoke rising from all over New York City.
I wonder if they've gotten any quicker at repairs.
He stood up slowly and caught his reflection in the glass. In his sixties, he'd aged well, and looked as strong as a man half his age.
But lots of things could be masked.
His intercom rang.
"Mr. Parr?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Dr. Crowley on line one."
"Bob Parr, how can I help you?"
"Bob… we've got your results from the lab back."
He realized he'd completely flattened the stress ball in his fist.
"And?"
"Looks like you're in remission for a third year. Congratulations."
Sweet air filled the office as his secretary came in with two cups of coffee, setting one of his desk before sitting in his lap.
"Congratulations, honey."
He kissed her cheek softly.
"Thanks, Helen."
She smiled before looking at the TV.
"They're calling it the Battle of New York now."
"The battles get bigger every time," he said, wrapping his arms around his wife. "It's a far cry from Bomb Voyage, huh?"
She chuckled and kissed his forehead softly.
"What about all this?" She picked up his notepad and held it at an arm's length, squinting. "Still saving the world, Bob?"
"You know it, honey. One claim at a time."