Sean says, "I don't have to kiss you." (It's not aggressive or bothersome, or even exciting. Just is.) I mention something about stuff in my mouth and spit out my tongue. Sean looks horrified, pale and sick. There is no pain; a spot of blood. I tell him to call an ambulance and ask them if they can re-attach it. He returns and says yes. I decide to keep it in my mouth.
I am running down wide white marble steps to get to the ambulance. I stop, realizing I don't have the tongue. I am wondering where I could have left it. My mother points out that I must have swallowed it. I consider gagging myself to get it up, but don't feel like it.
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