Half Full

The empty glass looked longingly at the jug of milk sitting beside it. It wanted to be full of that creamy substance—so cool and inviting. It wanted so much to nudge its way forward, but could not, for fear of tipping over and crashing into pieces. What’s that in the distance? A boy? A small boy that can barely reach his tiny hands above the tabletop. Glass in one hand, the tiny totster made his way to the milk jug and poured until the pearly liquid reached the rim. The boy drank half. Both he and the glass were satiated.