Spilled Milk and Staunched Fears

I grasp the carton of milk in my left hand, and a clear plastic cup in my right. As I raise the carton in preparation to pour the milk, my left hand squeezes.

Milk flies. Splatters the table. Stains my shirt. I stare in shock, as if I’ve witnessed a murder in cold blood.

Oh, no, I think to myself, as realization settles in. Oh, God, no.

Choice

In the past few days, my history teacher has told me two great things. The first thing is that “Call Me Maybe” by Carly Rae Jepsen is stuck in his head.

The second thing, and the thing that this blog post is about, is the reason I love being human.