A trip to the dentist today, to translate for a friend. The fish tank gives me comfort, as does the stack of magazines, and dull art. I pass the time looking at light dental reading. All the teeth are numbered, but start at eleven. What happened to one through ten? I try to imagine a child with ten baby teeth, five up and five below. Ah ha, the dentist arrives and he is French. He speaks enough English to say "We glue it. Pay later". Without thinking, I offer my friend peanuts on the way home.