She doesn’t wear a cape. Well, I don’t think she wears a cape. She might wear a cape. Lets go with she might wear a cape. She has always had my affection and admiration. I was always a fan of hers. I cheered at the victories, mourned at the tragedies. However, I was always a fan, with or without a cape.
My response was simple, even inadequate. I said that it was the hero story we all wished we had.
She was on a date. Her first date with this gentleman caller. They went to the trampoline park. Going to a trampoline park on a first date is grounds for hero status independently. However, that is not what did it for me. There was another guy there. He was picking on the younger kids. He said lewd and inappropriate things. She approached him. She stood tall, all 5 foot 2 inches of her. She coiled her frame, all 110 pounds of it. She calmly said, “Please leave those kids alone.”
The insecure and lost boy echoed poor parenting and generations of hate. He barked sexual slurs. He railed against the coming of the light.
She spoke firmly and advised him that he had one chance to change what he was saying. He didn’t. Like a spring, like a warrior, like a protector, like a fierce woman, she broke his nose, like a hero.