𝔓𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔶 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔥

I recognize the smell of dead tooth in my mouth because of my mother, whose teeth are always dying.

My sister bought a heart shaped locket. I’m never going to take this off, she said, shotgun on our way to Disneyland. Until I go through airport security.

What’re you going to put in it? asked my mother.

Your tooth, she answered.

I saw a smile at the gas station and wondered what it would look like blown up on a movie screen.

I’ve never seen a good looking dental office. My dentist dressed his lobby like a mall cafeteria. Memphis style wallpaper. Stain resistant booths.

I square his eye for ugly with mine. I hate your taste, I think, as he scans my mouth for a family heirloom.

The last time I was on laughing gas, I sobbed. I sobbed while Working Girl played in the background. I watched Alec Baldwin in a swirling, repetitive sex scene with Melanie Griffith. The dental tech pressed harder on my first molar and assured me I had a big heart.

𝔓𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩

I got lost looking for latex in a haunted house market. Not my usual fabric, but I promised the crowd sexy Mrs. Claus for Halloween. I met a vendor online who led me to the market. A dilapidated warehouse known as the Ice Box, for no reason other than it’s hot here, and cold in there, and white brick. She makes custom latex outfits based on childhood touchstones, like Minty from My Little Pony.

A sign read: THE BABY’S ROOM. Dimly lit by the street through a window. The scare was marketed as secondary to the shopping. Enter the baby’s room to see and buy what he left behind. A password diary. A collection of pastel pantyhose. A framed figure skating leotard. A sketchbook filled with slouchy ankles that looked like leg warmers.

I wrote the latex vendor a message, how close are you to the baby’s room?

Emma Raimondo is a writer based in Phoenix, Arizona. Her writing has been featured in -ette review and The Disappointed Housewife.