I wish I could record my thoughts; they’re lost in translation upon my tongue and somewhere between the back of my throat and the flesh of my lips they disappear, stuck between my teeth. And maybe if I actually did what my dentist said and flossed, then I’d find them again. Maybe they’re wrong and maybe it’s not sugar or acid that create cavities, maybe it’s all the things I’ve never said but tried to. And you have perfect teeth.