The baby’s crying. And she won’t stop, no matter what I do.
I remember my mother telling me that there’s no crying over spilled milk, so I rush to the refrigerator, get the milk, and spill some on her.
And, like magic, she stops.
Through the silence, we stare at each other for a while.
She has my eyes, but the rest is so Jason.
I smile, and she smiles… and laughs.
And laughs. And laughs.
She cannot stop laughing.
What did mom say? Ah: “No laughing at the misfortune of others.”
What? How the hell do I do that?