You rifle through some black combat boots until you find a pair in your size. When you sit down to try them on, you realize they have no laces. Someone taps your shoulder and you turn around to see a tall, broad shouldered man.
Muscles upon muscles fill out his olive drab tee shirt, and though the stub of his left calf is attached to a prosthetic running blade, he obviously keeps his legs in good shape as well. He looks at you with his icy blue eyes, deep-set in his angular, hyper-masculine face with a jutting, square jaw. His hair is precision-cut in a high-and-tight.
“Boy, if yooh’re lookin' for laces, they’re over here,” he drawls, patting a rotating rack beside him.
You stand up thank him, as you grab a pair of new black laces from the rack. You then notice there’s a poster on the wall with diagrams for army- and ladder-style lacing. You study it for a while before the man puts his large hand on your shoulder.
“Ah can show you how to tie them boots, if you wanna learn,” he says.
You agree, and you sit back down on the bench as he pulls your left foot into its boot. He strings the lace across the first eyelets, then laces up through the next ones before crossing over. He then has you do the next ones as he guides you with his voice. By the time you start with the right boot, you have the hang of it.
“They look good on you, boy.”
You realize he’s right, and that the boots feel awesome as well. You love how they hug your feet and ankles, and never want to take them off. You go straight to the register to buy them.
“Always stand tall in them boots, soldier,” says the man.
You take his suggestion, and stand tall and straight as you march out the door humming a cadence.