It’s funny how you think you can walk pretty fast, go on walks everyday, walk faster than many folk at work. Perhaps your legs are of a respectable length. But then when you hang out with people who are a few notches closer to “in shape”, you are the slow poke. With a couple pieces of luggage, you are sludgy slow.
Suddenly you realize that, even though your legs are moving constantly and your oversized calf muscles are in overdrive, you appear to be in a relative state of suspension. You companions grow further distant. You fall though space and time as shorter Japanese people swirl around you in a vortex of train station rush.
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