My daughter and I are at the dental surgeon. He goes into intricate detail about the process for the next appointment: the gas, the needle, the pulling of four teeth, the pain after. My daughter appears restless, then hot as she begins to remove layers, her jacket, her hoodie. She slowly turns green. I ask if she is okay. She looks unsure. I go over to where she sits. She is clammy.
The surgeon lowers the dental chair so that she can lie prone and take it all in.
I rub her head.