By L.J. Stephens
L.J. Stephens on Smashwords
Cavity © 2012 L.J. Stephens
There is a dull ache in John Bedford’s jaw when he wakes up. Not too painful. Just a constant, annoying buzz in the nerves. He rubs at the side of his face and tries to massage the pain out of his jaw muscle, but it does nothing. The ache is too deep for his fingers to touch. Almost like it’s in the bone. He gets out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom, still rubbing his face in vain. Probably grinding my teeth all night, he thinks as he turns on the shower.
He lets the water run while he moves to the sink and looks into the mirror. He wishes he had a job that would allow him to grow his hair out a little before he loses it completely, but even though he sits in a cubicle all day, to be seen by no one, the dress code at work is clear. Maybe his ever receding hairline will hold out until he can retire, but it doesn’t look good.