The weight of time

In the dim glow of the kitchen, a mature mother with long flowing hair stands by the counter. Her presence exudes both warmth and authority. The atmosphere is charged with the faint hum of appliances and the soft glow of photorealistic imagery on her screen. She notices her son's small penis, his awkward frame hunched over a snack. Her heart aches as she remembers her own youth, the excitement of first love, and the trembling hands that once held a boy just like him. With a gentle voice, she begins to explain life’s complexities, her words wrapping around him like a warm blanket.