I came home from work one night and a dentist had set up shop in my apartment. I guess I had never really made a home of this place, so it's only natural that either a vape shop, a Subway or a dentist took the opportunity to move in. Even as I opened the front hall closet to an avalanche of tubes of toothpaste and dispensers of floss, I was resigned. I lay down on the couch in the dining nook, now the reception area, to sleep. The next day, all my cutlery disappeared, replaced by surgical instruments and dental dams. My fridge was full of fluoride gels and whitening polish. I sat down on the reception couch to eat and think. I can't afford not to live here anymore, so we were going to have to just share. My friends now tease me every time they come over about the "sex chair" in the center of my living room. If they only knew about the mouthguard moulds spilling out from under my bed...