So I went to the dentist the other day.
It’s horrible, having your teeth drilled, but, with every knife, I just imagined my words, cut up into tiny slivers. My dentist, a woman in her mid-thirties, had around five cavities, oddly ironic, considering the fact she was lecturing me on proper dental hygiene.
“There we go, all clean!”
She stepped away at the end, much too perky, much too normal.
“Yeah,” I responded, sitting up. “I guess I’m all clean.”
