We exchanged an awkward glance when our eyes met in the mirror of the public restroom. I broke the eye contact, looked around, fixed the eye contact. Her mouth was opened wide and her nose scrunched up into her eyebrows and her tongue hanging out the left side of her mouth just a bit. She was flossing her teeth. I washed my hands slowly, trying not to look, or ask. “My father was a dentist,” she said as she walked out of the men’s restroom.
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