The Saddest Thing

The elevator door began to open and I was about to step in when all of a sudden I saw the dwarf who lived on my floor. A pleasant older Persian lady with a hunch back, she stands about a meter tall and has to reach up with her stubby little arms to open doors. She was wrangling with a mini-shopping cart, trying to push it around and out, her tiny hands reaching as high up as they can go, which was about at ear level for her.

I held the door open so she could move out, but then I realized she was having some trouble moving the cart. I offered to help, and she politely demurred, nodding her head toward the floor, saying "It's not me, it's the cart."

I looked at the floor and saw one of the wheels was completely askew, almost horizontal, thus causing difficulty trying to move it, especially with her leverage point.

"It's broken," I said.

I heard two hmphs and then saw a wry, but sad smirk.

"Just like me," she sighed.