Quee

Superman

Day after day, the clock above Sonny’s head slowly ticks, “Tick… tock… tick… tock.” The prisoner’s weary eyes, blood-shot red from endless days of travail, are aching in need of rest. His only possession is the faded picture of his 25-year old wife, Nikki, preciously holding their 11-month old son, John.
On a dark and lonely night, Sonny reaches into his back pocket for this wrinkled, seven-year old photo. As Sonny dreamily gazes at this picture, a drop of blood from the gash on his cheek falls like a raindrop on the edge of the photo. Weakly, he holds the photo up to the small beam of moonlight scattered from the bars toward the top of the solid wall. ...