The bus speeds towards the small boy playing in the street. The fatigued driver is oblivious of the child, and the child is unaware of anything but the red ball clutched to his chest.
          

 The old man on the far side of the street sees everything. Time seems to slow as he weighs his options. There is really only one choice for him, but still he hesitates. Though old age has dulled his thought processes, he is surprised to find that the familiar reflexes are still there. He is running down the street and cutting across the intersection before he even makes the decision. There was really no choice.
         

  He is painfully aware of his labored breathing, and how long it takes to traverse the block. Many years ago he could have jumped that short distance in a second, or raced down the street in a blur. His heart pounds, not just from the exertion, but from genuine fear – what if he doesn't make it?
         

  He dodges a taxicab, falters, and pushes on. The glasses slip from his face and he lets them fall to the hot pavement, though that reduces his target to just a smear of color ahead of him. His farseeing vision has failed him; the glasses that were part of a long-abandoned secret identity are now a daily necessity. He focuses his eyes on the ball, a small red sun drawing him home.
         

  One by one his extraordinary abilities diminished. Just as they had been slow to develop in his youth, they expired, each in turn, in his old age. But he still tries to help when he can. He still tries to do the right thing, even when everything around him is going so wrong.
         

  So close now. He pushes the boy to the side and plants himself squarely in his place, arms outstretched and palms open, counting on the last of his incredible strength to save him one more time.
         

  There is brief disappointment as he realizes that his strength has finally left him too.
          

 Crumpled on the street, he sees the boy crying. He tries to smile, to let him know that he is all right. The boy is safe, that's all that matters. The bright sunlight of the summer afternoon suddenly grows dark.
          

 Of all his powers, he had missed flight the most. Now he soars again.