Like most July days, it was hot. I stepped into a tiny ice-cream shop to 1 with a chocolate ice-cream. It was a very 2 store with little round tables and chairs.

 As I entered, I found a very old woman bent 3 a table near the door. Her 4 was so badly bent by some sadness that her face nearly 5 the table top. I sat down facing her a couple of 6 away.

 “Poor woman, I thought . What does she get 7 life? Why does God let people live so long past their youth?”

 As I thought, another aged lady entered the shop and sat down with her. Soon the two of them were 8 childhood days. They talked of how little the shop had changed in 70 years… In minutes, the two of them were shaking with laughter.

 I looked 9 at the first woman. Then in the 10 on a nearby wall, catching a picture of myself. I was 11 a dirty shirt. She was well dressed in white, her 12 shining with a gold ring. I was 13 . She was laughing, smiling. I was putting the 14 of my life together. She had millions of  15 memories to recall. I sat alone. She was 16 the day with a good friend. I was 17 worried about getting old. She was old, but it wasn’t 18 her.