‘I should have listened to her,’ I murmured, a bit louder than I should.
‘Listened to who?’ My friend inquired.
‘My mother,’ I said, as I kicked this can down the road, which put into perspective what has been going on. The constant decay in life. Where, one day ran into another. Even though the early morning wood would remind me of my virility, by end of the day my lack of passion was conspicuous.
‘She would always harken me to pay heed to her words, as if they contained nuggets of profound Zen wisdom; and would somehow help me navigate this harsh wintery life.’
‘So, what do you think she would have to say for your current predicament?’, he inquired further.
‘I would not know.’ I said, ‘I never listened.’