I see my uncertainty as a vast mysterious network of intersecting lines, falling away, returning to implant themselves on my memory, without understanding. I take one line and it leads to love, lost or taken, words colliding and falling to ash. Now I sit within the ticking clock, its constant small noise blocking out any possibility for even vague awareness. I wish to throw it away, pitch it and watch it fall, separate into its own tiny components comprising the whole. Yet without it, I can’t get to the dentist on time. There I lie with my head ceilingward, closing and opening my eyes from the brightness of the overhead light. It reveals many barnacles attached to my healthy yellowy teeth. Tracey, the blonde middle- aged dental hygienist, scrapes with her metal instruments, mask in place. Soft rock plays in the background – “Oh baby it’s too late”- I hear this voice from my childhood, speaking to her soon to be former lover. I now too have former lovers, they pick up a line and run skyward, reaching for the horizon I will not see for the clouds, circling, drifting, raining upon me. “We may get a little summer by August,“ Tracey says. I stare up at the poster on the ceiling as I shake my head. “The San Juan Islands as Viewed from Space”. The colors jump out at me, the lines of the land and sea traipsing off into infinity at the edge of the page. It occurs to me that only dental offices and bedrooms of teenagers have posters hanging on the ceiling. My husband walks in holding our daughter, they stand in the doorway and watch. “Mama’s done now,” Maya says. I wave my hand to her. “Not quite,” Tracey replies, a cross between light laughter and annoyance in her voice. I take so long, due to my lack of flossing. She has spoken to me of establishing another habit for the sake of protecting my beautiful teeth. I look up at the poster on the ceiling, feel the lines wiggle and jiggle on my retinas. Another habit? Have I not been trying to rid myself of my habitual nature for the last few minutes, years, lifetimes? I have forgotten which it is. I sink into the cushy chair and close my eyes again. I can’t hear the clock now, but it can hear me, this woman presenting herself as a patient in the dental chair, falling apart at the seams. What a shame. I had really hoped my smile would be brighter today.