That dentist appointment card has been stuck to my fridge with a banana magnet since March — Dr. Chen's office, 2pm on a Tuesday I swore I'd swap — and every time I grab milk I see it staring back like a tiny judgment. My molar started throbbing last week mid-shift at the hotel, the kind of dull ache that makes you reconsider every life choice involving sugar, and I still haven't called. Mom would've marched me there herself back when I was twelve and chipped a tooth on a jawbreaker, dad crackin