Let Me Get Back To You

She resented her walker.

A conversation with a certain recent birthday gal who'd throttle me if I revealed her name, so to protect my delicate anatomy, for our purposes today let's call her Patty:
"I feel so old."
"Why?"
"Because I am."
"You're beautiful."
"I'm old."
"You look amazing."
"I'm older than you."
"You certainly are."
"Don't remind me."
"You brought it up."
"See? I'm forgetting things."
"What did you do on your birthday?"
"I was surrounded by millennials."

She was starting to feel old.

"Oh dear God, Patty. No wonder you feel ancient. The first rule of anti-aging is to never hang out with people born after 1982."
"I had to."
"Why?"
"I was employed. They came with the scenery."
"Let's try to look at it another way."
"What other way is there?"
"How nice to spend your birthday employed. That must've made you feel good."
'It did. Until I realized I was so much older than everyone else."
"I don't think I've ever been employed on my birthday."
"Poor you."
"Patty?"
"What?"
"I've noticed you're not as empathetic as you once were."
"That's because I'm old."
"You left out bitter."
"It's implied."
"Old people are plenty empathetic."
"Give me one example."
"Let me get back to you."

Still, she managed to smile now and then.