For me it's too late;my life is already f..ked up

A few months ago, a woman walked into my store. I was arranging the spices on the shelves, wondering who had mixed up the nutmegs with the cloves, and the cinnamon sticks with the cumin seeds. I was in an exotic state of mind.

The woman came up to me and asked for some information about the spices. (Guessing my origins, customers usually aim for me when they need advice on Asian condiments). I told her what she wanted to know and, thanking me, she turned to leave. But just before she did, she held out her hand to me and said, Monsieur, I wish you a long and happy life. Somewhat taken aback, I managed to blurt out a feeble And I wish you the same, Madame. She looked at me sadly and said, For me it’s too late; my life is already f...ked up. And she vanished, leaving me to stare at the empty space that she had been occupying a few seconds ago.

I had never seen the woman before and I have not seen her since. But I think of her often. And I wonder.