Third Molar
There's something sacred about letting your meal guide your extensions. Today I let the grill talk back. The marrow-tine array aligned at a perfect 33°. I tasted every ancestral pulse.
The sensation of my cheekbone interacting with the bone-tine fork was more than tactile—it was interosseous communication. My steak wept truths I had long buried. The resonance lasted for hours afterward.
