"I"m sorry, dear. Us old folks sure get in the way, don't we?"
I looked into her rheumy blue eyes and my heart dropped to the glossy hard floor with the impact of nuclear bomb that just wasted away innocents. I was Stalin to her Mother Theresa.
My hand slowed and I withdrew from the baking powder like setting down my weapon of war and I smiled to the best of my ability.
"Oh, no worries," I replied with guilt lacing my voice, "You're not in my way."
And suddenly, they weren't. They were treasure troves. They were me aged fifty years. Blue-Hair's eyes twinkled with the sense of humor that probably matched mine but was tempered by time and a failing mind. Perm-Gone-Wild was so lost in her little world she never did notice me, but I wondered what memories and stories she could tell.
In my haste, I had forgotten the world doesn't need to move at the speed of light times twenty. In my haste, I saw a picture of myself in many years to come and realized that BP didn't matter, but fifteen cents did. Fifteen cents made me pause, breathe, relax, contemplate, and shuffle at the speed of nothing.
Enjoy the speed of nothing today.