I walk in and take three steps to the counter. Standing there is a young man of college age ready to take my order. With his feet, he is running, rather than walking. It's busy today at the coffee shop.
"Hi there," I say. "Can I get a 12 ounce bag of Indonesian beans?"
He smiles as he fills the bag. I take four steps to the register to pay with my debit card. All this time, he is running between me and the drive-thru.
Afterward, I walk up 14 steps to the neighboring nail salon for a pedicure. My toenails curl up, making it both easy and difficult to cut them. It's not summer, so I don't get them painted.
The lady scrubs my feet, dips them in wax. Then she peels the wax away, and with it, dead skin.
When my feet are dry, I put my socks and shoes back on. I walk down the 14 steps, and four blocks uphill, back to home.
And I think how nice it is to have a coffee shop just 100 steps or so form home, as I put my wide feet up and drink.