At
her age a fall could have meant a serious injury, a sprained ankle or a
broken hip. Luckily there was only a bruise and the terrible
embarrassment. She pulled away from the young man who helped her
to her feet, said "Thank you, I'm all right" and went on her way as
quickly as she could without looking back. But she couldn't
forget about it. His face. . . like a photograph on the
piano, thoughtful, always young. "All that concern," she
thought. "What did he care?" It began to seem as though
he'd caused the bruises, actually pushed her down. She didn't
need him. She was old now. A lifetime of love wasted.
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