Lilla

"I don't know what to do."
I leant forward from my kneeling position beside her chair, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know where I am or where I'm supposed to be going. I suppose I slept somewhere last night but I don't know where." Her breath quickened and she looked sad and slightly panicked at the same time.
I franticly tried to change the subject, "Have you been here long?"
"I'm only passing through." She smiled as she said it and I laughed before I realised that she really did believe it.
"How do you spell your name?"
She looked at me oddly, "L-I-L-L-A."
"That's a very pretty name; maybe we could go for a walk and find your room?"
"Oh it's alright." She ground her false teeth together, the plastic squeaking and groaning. She was trying not to cry.
In the background a woman began to sing as she shuffled along the edge of the room "Dum-de-dum-de-de."
I looked at her as she waltzed along, as did Lilla.
"I envy that woman."
"Pardon?"
Someone emerged from another room, taking her hand and asking if she was alright.
"She doesn't know." A pause and a few frantic swallows. "People always take her hand, they always talk to her. I wish people would visit me, it's so lonely."
I leant forward, touching her hand as my own throat constricted.
"Well I'm glad I stopped to talk to you."
She looked at me, watching as a tear slid down my face. "I made you sad."
"It's alright, a little sadness can be good for a person."
"I'm sorry."
Another tear.
We sat silently, hands touching, feeling the sorrow from one flow into the other.
"I should let you go." She patted my hand, the universal signal to go.
I stood, "I'm glad I met you."
Stooping, I kissed her wrinkled cheek and she hugged me back. Her arms were frail and she had no scent.
I walked through the doors of the retirement home and broke down.
Broke down over this frustrated, scared, lonely, woman who I spoke to for ten minutes. I cried over what may become of me at her age and of what her life is now.