A normal day in the life of a speedster

He lets his eyes wander. The girl’s gentle fingers wrap around the hands of a woman, presumably her mother. Her eyes gleefully pointed at a big teddy bear, kept in the display section of a store. He can see her pupils preparing to dilate, muscles ready to contract on a moments notice. On the store’s gate is a guard, age probably mid forties, standing uptight, a crease on his forehead. The look is frustrated, rather tensed. He can sense his rapid breathing, it being distinct from the others. Something was amiss with this guy. Family problems? Job problems? Health problems? Couldn’t have guessed.

Bored, he strolls back to the streets, where strings of cars, normally, would be passing in a frenzy, now lay in a suspended motion; like everything else. Horns still buzzed, which he hated. Though rather in an eerie cacophony. He could have picked every individual note from every individual source of sound, if he had the slightest knowledge of music. He made a mental reminder of that. Crossing the street, he casually walked from between the cars, which was, some might say redundant, when he could have vibrated right through them. But why bother, when you have all the time in the world. He wanted to feel as human as possible; which was ironical, considering he was currently in his most supernatural form.

Onto the pavement in a coffee shop, a waitress, was serving coffee to a young couple; who, noting their appearance, one might say, were on a date. That wasn’t important. A young boy, judging by his action, running, right behind the waitress, was ready to bump into her. This was interesting. He sat on the nearest chair, to them. Concentrating, he slowed himself down. His thoughts, his heartbeat, his breathing, his metabolism, his body; his life force.

The cars felt faster. He silently watches, as the boy hits the waitress, disorienting her. Everything was happening in slow motion. Felt much livelier, he thought excitedly. The coffee cups in her hand, slid from the tray, dwindling precariously. He can see the hot vapors rising, from the cups. The spilled stream of liquid is now in mid air. The angle of the collision was such that it directly made the falling beverage aim straight towards the girl, who now was in a conversation with her male suitor. The girl’s dress looked quite expensive. This would’ve been bad. The waitresses eyes begin to widen in shock, as she finally grasps, what is about to happen.

He stands from his chair, now back in his earlier form. The scene is frozen; the motion subdued. A part of him, immediately resents doing so. He walks past, gently picks the cups hanging in air. Carefully, rounds up the coffee, swirling above the girl, in the cups, as one might catch a bee with a net. He keeps them, neatly on the table. Oh, he missed a drop. An imperfect brown sphere, in air, swirling; he eagerly laps it with his tongue. “Ummm.., nice!”, he thought, “This is what being a Superhero is all about!”.

The waitress stood their dumbfounded. She only saw a flash.