A Farewell to Teeth - 3

The pain - that was the thing . . .

The pain wasn’t bad the last time - that time Samra had “infiltrated.” It was gentle, slow, and the gums had been properly numbed prior. It wasn’t gas - but it wasn’t bad. He’d had worse - the root canal injections stabbing deep into deep root-nerves - almost metallic. “Infiltration” was a gentle breeze.

But the teeth were going, the gums receding like the snow in spring.

And the leopard was waiting - an elegant pattern of black on gold. Or white, to go with the snow. And the teeth.

Was there gold in that tooth? The back one. He wondered.. Would they allow him his own teeth?

For the salvage and recycling value?

He drank the good wine and thought again about the Jordan Almond. And that first root canal.

And the pain.

It would pass.

In the snow.