Old and angry

An old woman shouting viciously at her husband on a mobility scooter. Expletives aimed at hurrying him up. A little while ago now. Has stuck in my mind as a great story, in some way, but not sure how. As I was leaving, I was arrested by the sound of raised voices, the way one always is- it's the instinct to rubber neck, the joy of destruction, the car crash obese benefit family whom society can't help but look at despite being repulsed by... all these instincts pricked my attention to the scene I arrived upon as I passed through the large glass sliding exit doors. Though I can't remember his appearance, I think his face modeled an expression of pain or gross upset- but in the way that old men's faces do, until they speak to you whilst maintaining said contorted expression- about last night's fortuitous weather- and you realise that they are not miserable but just of unfortunate face. So his miserable visage rumbled very slowly towards the car park, atop his overly coated seated posture, a walking stick woven somehow into the shopping basket at the front of his snail like vehicle. And all the time, like a cattle herd shooing an enormous bullock, his small, angry and wiry wife hollering behind him. Yes, she was particularly vicious. But that was not the captivating essence of the scene. What struck me was the futility of her plight- no matter how much she swore, his velocity was unwavering- a painful and derogatory slow- his thumb hovering over the grey plastic accelerator button placed ergonomically on the left grip, for the most arthritic of hands to activate a burst of age defying energy whenever the mood would take them. And therein lay the power of the diabolical situation- his thumb neither flexed nor retreated- just hovered deliberately on the button, maintaining an aggravating minimum pace as the low whine of the gearing testified. And where first I saw misery and contorted pain in that aged and lined face, did I perhaps see just the slightest curve down at the corner of the mouth- perhaps the beginning  of one of those peculiar smiles that bends downwards instead of up.