I asked the most interesting man I talked to today why he was here. He had a small mouth. His mouth ought to have housed ten teeth, (six on the top and four on the bottom as it was smaller still. Nearly not even there), but instead there was a crowd. Writhing and mashing as he talked, they shoved and elbowed to get their bellies to his lips. The late comers stuck out at all angles, their heads poking between the gaps and above the heads of the more fortunate front row. And noticing this, I realized they weren't mashing but moshing. For me? I felt like a rockstar. I smiled, wide, all my teeth out in full array. It was a show.
He gestured to the piles of sabers, longswords, daggers, staves, rapiers etc. splayed over the floor and said, "I've been training with the master of this academy for twenty years now."
I left the recreation hall over which I preside in a hurry. Before he caught me looking at his mouth.
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