“It’s a bit thought out.”

He nodded at the floor like a little boy and I wanted to grab him by the shoulders, tell him all about my life so far, let him know that it’s been longer than his, yes, but less interesting - I could cover the whole thing in a sentence or so. I wished I was in a place, or at a point where I could tell him; I might be older, it doesn’t mean I’m not cowed by the silver in your hair and the furrows in your face. I’d tell him I only remember I’m supposed to be wiser, have a firmer grip on things when he’s nodding at the floor like a child.