She came to the end of the alley. Dead-end. How ironic.
Teary-eyed, she banged against the window glass. “Please help!” she screamed. “Death tried to give me his business card!” But the staff at the Daily Planet saw her, red-eyed in her ex-boyfriend’s wrinkled clothes, and took her for just another drug-addled tramp.
The figure approached her once more. “I am death,” he repeated.
She fell to her knees, sobbing. “I want to live.” Quietly, she folded her hands before her. “I’ve never asked you for anything, but if you’re listening, please save me, Superman.”