Turtle Woman | Celeste Johnson

An old lady shuffled along the grocery store aisle pushing a cart with her grandson in it. Her stubby gray hair shot straight up in all directions. She was skinny, skinnier than most people her age. Her face bore a lifetime of trials: stress, excessive sun (possibly from hard outdoor labor), deaths, births, cigarette smoke, life. Her mouth seemed to be a magnet for the majority of her wrinkles, creases folding and scrunched all around her pursed lips. Some how her lips ever so slightly pursed in and out, barely noticeable. Most old people or people without teeth do the no-tooth-mouth dance. It resembled that in the tiniest degree possible. The way her eyes blinked as her mouth did the timid dance, resembling a turtle.