The old woman had a collection of
teeth in a velvet-lined box, each one a memory from a life well-lived. She fondly recalled the day she lost her front
tooth, the
oxen pulling the cart that caused the accident. She had also kept a
series of
children's teeth, each one a reminder of her own
children and their growing pains. It was a peculiar collection, a testament to the passage of time and the strange ways in which we hold onto the
remnants of our past.
