Ben's House

You and your buddy Ben gather your cheap spelunking gear from the corner of his basement where you keep it and hoist it up the narrow steps to his living room.

His mom is sitting there the same as when you’d come in, still in her bathrobe, a green terry cloth robe Ben said his dad gave her, that’s how old it is. You head through the room without saying anything since she never responds when you do anyway, not so much as a "hi there" even though you've been her son’s best friend since the two of you dominated the kindergarten playground together. It gives you the creeps to see Ben try to talk to her. He's never tried to do what the rest of us would do if our mothers were walking, breathing vegetables like her. We’d have lost it long ago, taken her by the shoulders, slapped her, told her to fucking snap out of it. But not Ben. He lingers behind you, and you know he is bending down to kiss her on the cheek.

What do you do next?