Untitled, #1

I noticed his yellow teeth, a bottom row of not-near white enamel that has an interesting sheen in the sun. How strange, that I had not before noticed the imperfection. They are uneven and jarring. I, who usually only see him at night, noticed the truth of the rows of teeth in the light of day.

He stood behind the bed of his truck, telling me he was leaving. Instead of thinking of Oregon, or my mother, or the four years we had been together, I thought of his teeth. The chip in the front tooth I had seen. He earned it in a fight he had in a club shortly after he first proposed. I had traveled to my Nana’s for the weekend and was called awake one night by a bail bondsman. He had been in a fight and was arrested. I let him spend the night in jail. He needed to learn a lesson and I needed the money for rent.

I think about how much I love his smile, but then realize that he only smiles in my mind. I haven’t seen a smile. So what is it that I love?