A sterile room, slight wrinkle on a shining bald head, the man is staring at his computer screen. He wistfully stares at a photo of my teeth taken years ago, and makes a dismissive gesture towards the screen. “I’m still not entirely happy with that root canal”, he mutters under his breath. It reminds me of the people I work with, people that are primarily artists. I don’t like the dentist, but I’ve realized my dentist is an artist. Maybe every dentist is. It’s a surprisingly personal little piece of art, a root canal or a cavity filling. I wonder if he has a favorite tooth he has ever worked on, or regrets about a tooth that didn’t work out.