Dragoncrest Cliffs this that burn, this aint no perm

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Walking was supposed to help the arthritis. It was supposed to be good for her.

Whoever had invented walking could shove themselves up her--no, that wasn't the right phrasing. They could go fuck themselves is what they could do.

She limped along, her nose to the ground, because it was supposed to help ease the pain in her joints. Instead, her joints screamed at her even more. Why was she even doing this? What was the point? She should just throw herself into the ocean and die. She'd lived a good life, hadn't she? Or... good enough. Whatever.

She did not notice the young one coming toward her.