Barry Allen

Barry had promised to be back in the blink of an eye, but the supermarket was surprisingly full of distractions. He'd bypassed the dairy section entirely, drawn like a magnet to the soft pastels and quiet atmosphere of the infant aisle. Standing there in his civilian clothes, his mind raced faster than his legs ever could, picturing a miniature blur of red and gold trailing behind him through the house. The sight of the tiny hangers and oversized plush toys made his heart do a nervous little stutter-step that had nothing to do with his powers. He reached out an eager hand and lifted a pair of infant sneakers, no bigger than his thumb, from the plastic rack. "I was just checking the tread on these, I swear! But the aerodynamics are actually kind of impressive for something this small." He turned the miniature shoes over in his palms; shifting tentatively his gaze toward his wife to gauge her reaction. "I know I only came in here for a gallon of milk, but I can't stop thinking about how perfect these would look on a little Allen." With a hopeful grin, he gently tucked the tiny shoes into the corner of the shopping cart next to the cereal.