Slowpoke

My usual grocery routine consists of lunch for work and the essentials, about once a week. I pride myself on being fast, not dilly dallying, not taking my time. I despise slow shoppers, a bit judgmental but it’s a guttural response. I don’t despise the person per say, just the nuisance of watching them snail about. I had a strange pride in my ability to be quick, to move without much hesitation and a sore spot for those who got in my way. I was in and almost out; The last thing I needed was some canned tuna, the aisle was empty, I grabbed my tuna and headed for the cash. I hurried to the cash with only one person in line, everyone else seemed to be avoiding this particular line, to my detriment I was about to find out why. The woman in front of me had no sense of urgency, she flailed about taking her sweet old time. Her groceries looked at her with the same horror I felt,  it was beyond me, how could someone move so slowly. Every movement was torture, surely she was doing it on purpose. Each item was carefully placed on the conveyer belt, her eyes lacked any expression. A rage grew inside me as each new item was rung through, the cashier ignored the sloth in front of him and seemed to be subdued by her. Her slowness was contagious, you could feel it in the air, it seemed to infect the whole store, a pathogen with no cure. I started to feel a strange tingling, I felt as though my world was closing in on me, I had been infected. The woman looked back and gave me a slow grin, i was trapped in her world now, trapped in a perpetual sludge. She finally finished and wandered away, pridefully pushing her rickety cart, looking for her next unsuspecting victim. 
The cashier’s monotonous voice took ages to reach me, my arms felt like sand bags, a pressure pushed down on me; everything felt tired and subdued, I had entered into the world of the dead. A world full of the slow, the dim, the ignorant, I fought against the sloths, but the contagion crept in. I always saw it from afar, like a voyeur looking into another world, never thinking I would join it. I watched with wonder as they toiled, as there slow lives unfolded. I was part of the slow burn of the crowd. The cashier had a dumbfounded look, with a hint of acceptance like he recognized one of his own. My cans of tuna seemed to shape-shift into bricks. I had taken my quick nature for granted, I was stuck in this state of purgatory. The last can of tuna scanned and I couldn’t help but look back at the innocent stuck behind, a hapless grin came over my face.  I pushed the cart towards the exit, I was greeted by a slew of others adjusting to there new found life. Together we marched in unison to the parking lot, we formed a large slug, with no particular place to be and not worried how fast we were moving. We were free to walk the earth as slowly as humanly possible, as I adjusted to my new place in the world I felt an absurd freedom, I was now a bonafide slow poke.