Friday, December 23, 2011


He said something funny. She began to laugh. Wide, happy, unabashed, mouth-open laughter. And that's when he saw them. Within her mouth were rows and rows and rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. Uncomfortable. Like too many layers of clothing. Cluttered. Like bats on the ceiling of a cave. Sharp. Like knives on display at a butcher's shop. He tried not to say anything funny for the rest of the evening.

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