I turned on the stove, watching the flames flickering. I washed my hands, picked up a pan, and placed it on the stove ready to make breakfast. As I leaned over the stove to get a spatula, the fringe on my sleeve brushed the pan. I mixed the ingredients together and poured it into the pan. My sister showed me how to flip the eggs, cut them, but she went to the restroom before she showed me when they are ready. Before I knew it, they turned black. I don’t think I’m going to be a chef any time soon.