Gary tilted his head, squinted at the mirror, and nodded.

“It’s fine,” he said out loud, with the confidence of a man lying to himself on purpose.

Sure, it hurt. Sure, it looked bad. But people online exaggerated everything. He once googled a headache and ended up convinced he had six months to live. This was probably the same.

He gave the tooth one last experimental prod with his tongue.

Instant regret.

Still, it hadn’t fallen out. That felt important. Structural integrity mattered. Probably.

Gary rinsed his mouth again, spat, and straightened up. If he was going to spiral, he could at least do it somewhere with beer taps and background music. And if the universe really was lining things up for him tonight, maybe the pub held answers. Or at least distractions.

He pictured the new girl. The dentist. The absurd symmetry of it all. It felt like the sort of coincidence that only happened right before something went badly wrong.

Gary grabbed his jacket and keys.

“Pub,” he decided. “Definitely pub.”

Head to the pub → Page 13