As a child, I had two walking speeds: lightning and snail. Snail was my standard; I would fall so far behind my mother in the grocery store that she could do her entire day’s shopping and find me back in the first aisle.
Lightning, the rarity, would occur only at specific places. Going to a Jets football game, I'd fly through the parking lot--a green blur. On occasion, I'd realize too late where we were going. Slow walking into a boring-looking building, then
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