A DENTIST

By Isabella Smith

My heart was beating faster than a rabbit runs. I was ready to die. My feet were going crazy while my hands were occupied by doing something on the phone. That kept me from a nervous breakdown. Which I still had, but only inside, where no one could see it nor judge it.

I sat there, blindly looking into my phone. Typing like a madman I looked up to see the rest of the patients, surprised to spot them looking right back at me. My typing was too loud and everyone was interrupted by the vibrating sounds coming from underneath my fingers. Once I turned the sound off, they all went back to the thing, that kept them calm, even though it was obvious that they were in the same situation like me.

As she called my name, my heart stopped. Everyone in the waiting room surged and cursed me silently when I stepped into the office. My vision was fading but the bright light that the monster that dares to call itself a human being shined  inconsiderately into my face made me see again. The chair is always comfy, I’ll give them that, but the tools next to it are just other monsters trying to find a way to hurt you and an excuse for hurting you with hurting you even more. I tried to have happy thoughts, but as soon as the metallic taste hit my tongue, I realized that that is that and that no more happy thoughts were needed. I was fine and with a smirk on my mouth I left the office.

At the end of the day, we all have a phobia of dentists, but we also all know, that they are just trying to help, so next time you go to a dentist, show him or her some love and bring them a chocolate or something.

Also, I started writing this, when I was waiting for my turn and finished it in the car on my way back. I go through these two stages every time. Weird.

AND MAYBE

by E-A Schneider

And maybe there was silence, and maybe there was a breathy little whisper of ‘Just like you,’ in response to ‘This sunset’s beautiful;’ and maybe it didn’t matter at all, and maybe it mattered more than it should’ve; and maybe their hands brushing lightly against each other was an accident, and the way their fingers were now interlocked didn’t mean a thing, because people hold hands platonically all the time. They knew, though, they knew that all the little touches and glances held far too much meaning to be put into words.

So there was silence, and the sun had gone down completely now, leaving the little mess of tangled fingers and touching thighs that could be the start of something big and beautiful, in complete darkness. They had each other, though, and the light behind their eyes was enough to keep them safe, to keep them sane, and honest--enough to help them find their way home. Home was here--in the very arms of the other, in their smile, in the sound of their breathing, and the way their eyelashes rested atop their cheekbones lightly as they slept; and maybe home had become an intangible thing--a feeling, the feeling they got only when with one another.

And wasn’t that dangerous, putting so much trust into one single person? Extremely, but they’d promised not to hurt each other, but deep down they knew that keeping this up would be close to impossible. Right now, though, in the pitch black part of the world, where they were invisible even when holding hands, that didn’t phase them. They’d try their hardest, and that was a promise they both knew they could keep forever.