The old man was reflecting on what was wrong with the world.
He quietly mumbled to himself, “If you ask me, there’s too much taking for my liking. It’s bound to all end in tears, you mark my word. There’s taking this and taking that. There’s taking advice, turns, minutes, threats, umbrage, vows, exception and instructions. There’s taking a chance, the blame, a thrashing, your temperature, someone’s life, a walk, a name, a memo, a drink, a seat, a fall, a break, or time out. Then, there’s taking an early bus, the wrong tablet, your girlfriend out, it all in, life for granted, a quicker route, whatever is going, it all back, or a late train. Of course, there’s taking the worst of it, sugar in your tea, what you can get, just one more gamble, the money and run, the long way home, or salt on your chips. There’s always taking the car for a spin, one page at a time, a walk on the wild side, the mower in for a service, or even a moment to think about it all.”
He looked up at the nurse. “You see? There’s just too much taking, if you ask me.”
She sighed.
He sighed. “But nobody does.”