I’m sorry
I stopped by the neighborhood’s hole-in-the-wall produce store to pick up some fruits and vegetables. Ahead of me was an older woman in her mid-60′s. Her aura was as frantic as her grey-silver hair. As she was bending over, looking under shelves, behind counters, I quickly gathered that she had lost her wallet. The last place she took it out was at this exact store, she seemed to be telling the entire store.
Then she faded into the background as I checked off my mental list of smoothie ingredients I had in mind. As I stood at the check-out line, I noticed her sunken shoulders walk out of the store as three of the Mexican employees walked back to the back room after unsuccessfully helping her find the wallet.
I picked up my groceries and walked out of the store, happy with my purchase. As I turned the corner, I walked straight into the frantic aura and couldn’t help but stop. All of her bags were sprawled atop a table on the street. Her hands were shaking and she was murmuring to herself.
“I’m sorry it happened to you.” She looked up at me, “Oh thank you, I never lose anything.” I looked her in the eyes, “I’m sorry,” and I gave her the one real smile I had in me today.
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