After work that day.
I drove to the supermarket to pick up some household supplies.
As I rounded the corner of an aisle, I nearly collided head-on with a middle-aged woman who was almost fifty.
"Sorry..."
I had barely finished speaking when I looked up and froze.
The woman looked at me and froze too.
We stood there stunned for a long time. Neither of us spoke; neither knew how to begin.
I had imagined countless times what I would say to her if I ever saw her again, but now that I had actually been lucky enough to run into her, I was too ashamed to speak.
In the end, she spoke first, and that smiling face, at once familiar and unfamiliar, appeared before me again.
"Have you been well?"
"I've been all right..."
I nodded. "Have you been well...?"
She smiled. "I've been very well too."
I noticed that she was carrying a bag of rice and a jug of cooking oil, and seemed to be struggling a little.
I quickly put back the things I was holding and took her bags before she could object. "They're too heavy. Let me..."
I didn't know whether it was because she didn't want to see me, but she was getting ready to check out.
I followed her to the checkout and tried to pay for her, but she refused no matter what I said.
I stood there awkwardly, waited for her to finish paying, then carried her things to the supermarket entrance.
"Your shopping is too heavy. I have a car. Let me drive you home."
"No need."
She smiled at me. "You young people are all busy. Go take care of your own things. These aren't heavy."
A bitter ache rose inside me. In front of her, I simply