August 24th, 2026
I woke up on the floor next to the side of the bed. The room was dark and I was spitting tiny pieces of enamel out of mouth on to the carpet. I felt disoriented, but there wasn’t any pain. That made my temporary confusion worse.
I stumbled up to my feet and walked into the bathroom. I closed the door before I turned on the light to make sure that I didn’t wake up Asher. He was still asleep in our bed. I tried to focus my eyes enough to see my face in the mirror. The image was a bit blurry, but I could tell that my top right incisor was just a little shorter than its partner on the left. Fuck.
I remembered having a vivid dream. I was sleeping on the edge of the bed (Asher likes to take up most of the bed by sleeping sideways on the mattress). I must have rolled to the right and fallen off the side. My mouth hit the corner of the nightstand on my way down to the floor. I recall feeling my head jerk sharply back as my body hit the carpet. Later in the day, I noticed a deep, inch-long gouge in the wood of the nightstand. That was where my front tooth and the furniture kissed.
The incisor now has a sharp, ragged edge. It still works. I can bite things with it. It doesn’t hurt at all. It just looks nasty. I told me daughter-in-law in Texas about the current appearance of my smile. She texted me,
“How redneck of you.”
The broken tooth makes me think about mortality. Do I even want to get the tooth fixed? I have an appointment for a dental cleaning two days from now. I expect that the dentist will have some guidance for me, and probably a cost estimate. The point is that I’m old (68 and 1/2 years). I seldom smile. Is there any pressing reason for me to spend money on repair if the tooth is still functional? I long ago gave up caring about my appearance. I already look like I have a lot of mileage on me.
No more broad, toothy grins.
Frank is Emptiness 