I can’t remember now where I got the horse tooth. But where does a boy get any of the junk he collects?
I remember I had a winter coat, the kind I called a caterpillar coat. Had a red bike reflector in the pocket for quite a while. A couple of little stones that struck sparks. A series of pocket knives. Who knows what all stuff I’ll never think of again.
The horse tooth was special because it was part of an animal, and came from its mouth. So I’d carried it around for a very long time, a good portion of my life when you come to think about it, and back when time moves so slowly, too. Somehow I felt like I was its guardian.
And then it wanted to be buried.