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Seconds passed between each of your tea gulps.
It gurgles down your esophagus with the power of a freight train and the speed of a snail, swashing around the curves of every oyster pink segment until plunging into your hairy little tummy.

I am trying not to let your grotesque noises lure me into staring at you.
You are sick and old and deserve a nice cup of tea.
Fine. My shoes are interesting anyway.

Now there is a toothbrush in your mouth.
Now it's very difficult not to look.

The teachers all brush their teeth after lunch. I do not.
Not because I feel uncomfortable with the idea, I just can't be bothered.
I've got the chompers of a horse anyway.

You are chatting with a student and toothpaste spittle flings from your mouth.
The toothbrush is bouncing up and down with each syllable.
smacking noises make me wonder if you have dentures.
Please take it out.

...don't look...... don't look......

ok, a little peek.
that's enough.
I wonder if I will gurgle like an unplugged tub when I'm your age.