Solitary Place
	As I was sitting in the busy waiting room, in walked a fragile-looking, mite of a lady who really captured my attention.  From the way she carried herself to the desolate look in her eyes she showed a life filled with more hardships than her fair share.  Her whole persona was made up of sadness and heartache.
	The delicate posture that scooted the tiny lady into the room was so frail and badly bent.  It seemed to struggle even under the weight of her, although she did not appear to weigh more than seventy-five pounds.  Instead of walking, she shuffled in a manner that didn't require lifting her small feet off of the floor.  She stared at the floor as she shifted across the room and did not look to acknowledge anyone around her.
	The wee lady sat down in a lonely seat furthest from everyone else and remained silent.  Once she was seated, and I was able to get a better look at her, she appeared even more troubled than I had first perceived.  She sat motionless, her legs crossed and her head tilted back as if the sun was shining on her.  The countenance upon her face, however, did not reflect any sunshine.  Her dark eyes were closed tight and she wore a frown that looked as if it could never be turned upright again.  The trails covering her face symbolized all the places she had been and the many winding paths she took.
	The whole time I sat there, I wondered who this lady was and where she came from.  Did she have any children?  If so, where were they?  Shouldn't they be here, filling the lonely space next to her?  She looked so depressed, like she had the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders.  I could not stop thinking that she must have had a really tough life.  I could not help but feel sorrow for her.
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