Dental emergency

I was rudely shocked out of my shower reverie last evening by a sharp rapping on my bedroom door.

“Hang on!” I shouted above the noise of water and steam.

Stepping out into the living hall, I see my sister resting her head on one hand and very green around the gills.

“I need to get to a dentist. My tooth is killing me,” she managed in between bouts of stabbing pain.

I could hardly get into my clothes quick enough. Locking the doors at breakneck speed, I drove her recklessly around our the neighborhood looking for a dentist that was still open on a Saturday evening.

Thankfully there was one. No if’s or but’s. She would have paid a king’s ransom to get rid of the pain and she did. We will probably look back on this in a couple of weeks and laugh.    

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