Sitting in the car this evening, waiting for the rush-hour traffic to finish its crawl, I wondered if it would have been better off if I'd gone ahead and let it happen anyway. After it first happened, I mean.

Perhaps I might as well have done it - as I found out all those months afterward, it would have been safe, and don't they say it feels so much better? And then we might still be speaking and writing to each other now, and I might have something to look forward to. I wouldn't be wondering, every night, who he's met in Metropolis now and if he ever thinks of me and understands what he did.

But at the time, after I breathed again and everything inside me had turned to ice, I told myself to stick to my guns and say no. The temptation was there, and I did consider it for a second, but I knew - I knew I would be betraying myself and everything I stood for. That I would never play the fool, and that I would always look after myself. What if creation defied everything I threw at it and grew into life? I wouldn't let myself be so stupid, and I'm glad.

So I got my wish.