Clark sat in his chair in the loft, staring out the window with a fixed gaze. He wasn't that great of a writer; had never really been a writer, but he wanted to do something for Lana. He couldn't talk to her anymore, because the talking to her was driving him crazy. She wasn't there anymore, she never would be there again, and it was all his fault.
He began to write. To my Lana…he started, and then scratched it out. No, that wasn't right. Dear Lana…he began again, before hesitating and scratching that out too. "Nothing sounds right!" he yelled, ripping out the page and throwing it in a little ball against the wall.
"Lana…L-Lana…"
Clark sighed, picked up the pen, and tried one last time.
To my wife…
That was workable. To Clark, that's what she was, no matter what events had transpired to keep them from an actual wedding.
Lana, I'm sorry for things.
Clark shook his head. "That doesn't sound right either," he whispered.
I never should have told you my secret. I never should have told you who I really was. If I wouldn't have told you who I really was, you will still be here today. I knew that there was a price to be paid, but I chose to ignore that, because I just wanted to be with you,
"Forever…"
forever and ever, always…It was always supposed to be you and me, Lana. It was always going to be you and me. We were going to get married, and we were going to be together, finally, with nothing between us.
Tears drops smeared the words on the page as Clark said, "But that's all changed now."
Who am I supposed to be with now, Lana, now that you're not here? There isn't anybody but you that I would want in my life, there isn't anyone but you that I want to be with. I only had eyes for you, Lana, and no matter what truths I kept from you, you were always the only one for me.
I will always love you, Lana. It will always be you. Only you.
Forever.
Clark ripped the letter out of the notebook, folded it up, and shoved it in his pocket. Pulling on his coat, he vanished out the door with superspeed.