It was blazing hot, just like most July days. I stepped into a tiny ice-cream shop to cool off with a chocolate ice-cream. It was an old woman bent over a table near the door. Her back was so badly twisted that her face nearly touched the tabletop. I sat down facing her a couple of tables away. "Poor woman," I thought, "What does she get out of life? Why God let people live so long past their _ ?" As I thought, another aged lady entered the shop and sat down with her. Soon the two of them were talking about childhood days. They talked of how little the shop had changed in 70 years... In minutes, the two of them were trembling with laughter. I looked again at the first woman, then in the mirror on a nearby wall, catching a picture of myself. I was wearing a dirty shirt. She was well dressed in white, her hands sparking with gold rings. I was sad. She was laughing, smiling. I was putting the pieces of my life together. She had millions of wonderful memories to recall. I sat alone. She was sharing the day with a good friend. I was secretly worried about getting old. She was old, but it wasn't hurting her. As I left the shop, I thought of my foolish question about God letting people live past their prime. Why, that woman was more alive, more sensitive to life than I was. Age has not bent her spirit. The writer implies all of the following except that   _  .
the old lady had lived a full and satisfying life the writer had more problems than the old lady the old lady was very lonely and sad the old lady had learned to enjoy the simple things in life