[Before we start:
Old English crypel (one who creeps, halts, or limps, one partly or wholly deprived of the use of one or more limbs), related to cryppan (to crook, bend), from Proto-Germanic krupilaz (source also of Old Frisian kreppel, Middle Dutch cropel, German krüppel, Old Norse kryppill. Possibly also related to Old English creopan (to creep) creopere, literally creeper, was another Old English word for "crippled person). Crippled is past participle form of Cripple.]
The woman looked at the flowers. It was fresh and new, the smell spread throughout her room. She knew who sent those, and that was the reason why she did not touch those flowers.
Sophia Relisha was known for being a non spoken person. She had never uttered any words since her son and daughter in law brought her here. It has been three years since.
She looked at the picture of a little girl which she kept with her from the very first.
“Mrs. Relisha? May I come in?” A familiar voice of a man came into her room.
“Yes.” She replied, it was always been like this. She did not speak anything else than yes or no.
“You have a visitor.” The woman gave him an unpleasant look. “He is no one from family members.”
Even though she never allowed anyone, she told him to send the man to her. She did not know why she agreed to see him, but something in her told her to.
“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, may I come in ma’am?” An unfamiliar voice of a man, who seemed to be pretty young, was heard.
“Yes please. Make yourself home.” She looked at him as she spoke. His eyes were dull, dark circles were clearly visible.
“I came here for an interview. I wanted to know if people here are taking care of you properly or not.” He said in a monotonous tone.
“Go ahead and ask what you want to.” She said before examining him for one last time.
"So what difficulties do you face in your condition?...I mean, what does it feel like to be...uh..."
"A cripple?" She replied as she turned her wheelchair and looked at him. She kept staring at him without saying anything, as if she was judging him.
"I didn't mean to be rude. Sorry." He said without any hint of guilt in his eyes.
"No, you haven't." She replied with a faint smile and said, "I think we all know how it feels. Don't we?"
He was confused and also irritated that he had multiple interviews to take at the old age home.
"What? You didn't get me, did you"
He shook his head.
"You know, all of us, get crippled at least once." She again looked at him and continued,
"Ever felt completely lost?"
He opened his mouth to say something but he couldn't.
She continued, "You want to write but you can't, you want to draw but you can't? You're not able to sing or play your favourite instruments, losing the game you were always passionate about? Have you ever been at a loss for ideas? Have you ever thought about ending your life? Ever felt worthless?"
He nodded without saying anything, he kept his head down. He didn't want to look at her anymore because he understood what she wanted to explain.
"That's how it feels to be crippled." She ended her words and went off towards her bed in wheelchair, leaving him alone with thousand and one thoughts.