“And who are you?” the therapist asked.
“I am Midnight Shadow,” the teen answered. “I am the superhero who roams at night.”
“And what are your powers?”
The boy pursed his lips, screwed his eyes up to the ceiling in thought. “I’m the thing you only see out of the corner of your eye. You will ask yourself whether you actually saw me or was it a figment of your imagination.”
“Ah,” the therapist noted this in her book. “And how does it help the world?”
“I don’t think a superhero has to do anything to save the world. Maybe some of us just want people to pay attention to them.”
“Do you feel no one pays attention to you?”
“Would you, if you weren’t paid to write stuff about me in your book?”
Later that night, the therapist couldn’t sleep. She stared up at the ceiling. Something caught her attention. No, of course, it was nothing. She closed her eyes and eventually sleep came.