Hallmarked
I’m dashing through the snow to catch the thief who grabbed my iPhone from my hand when I trip, slip, and slam face first against the door of an SUV parked curbside. I see stars, not festive red and green stars, but orange bursts that sizzle my eyes, and then, horrors, my tongue pushes my front tooth and my front tooth rocks like a hobby horse. It’s loose! I sit up. Blood is pouring from somewhere—my nose? my forehead?—and candy-stripes down my puffy white jacket.