A tiny orb sits between my teeth and closed lips. I used to struggle to balance its precarious weight. Not anymore. Just last month I made it through an entire presentation at work. I spoke rudely to my mom. I apologised profusely to my mom. I gave some of the best advice I could muster to a close friend. Through it all, it sat there, unmoved. I hardly noticed it.

Something weird has begun to happen.

It has begun to shift around, move back and forth inside my mouth. I swear I almost caught it peeking from behind one of my molars. I had looked up “teeth names” to see which one the molar was. The tiny orb has been rattling around, making my “teeth chatter”.

The orb has multiplied. There are four now. I’m beginning to sound muffled on the phone. My friend in London cannot understand me and it has nothing to do with my accent. She’s asking me why I haven’t responded to any of her calls. I’m telling her I’ve been busy at work, trying to move houses, time difference, but she doesn’t hear these details in my explanations, only their lengths and breadths.

The orbs are multiplying, yes. They are also growing. They’re starting to form their own words, their own language. When I open my mouth, they speak, sometimes in unison, sometimes out of sync, sometimes perfectly out of sync. I have found a new job as a badly paid one-person choir. I go on stage when I feel it coming on, in a spontaneous display. I am not able to control the words or the patterns. Yet.

Some of the orbs have left me, but they still carry my name, my likeness, my brand. So when they speak, I am associated with them, even though I do not know where they are or what they’re saying. I have filed a gag order. The clerk was stumped when I filed it. “Whom exactly am I supposed to serve this notice to?”

Development. An orb that had left has come back and is fighting with one of the tiny orbs that stayed. This argument is tedious to me especially since I can't get a word in.

Today, I took the long route home. I haven’t been this exhausted in a while. My entire body is shaking, out of control, looking to escape itself. I have not yet figured out where the orbs are coming from. I called up Rome, just on a lark, to see if they knew. They didn't know. Or they didn't know what I was saying, because I could not stop screaming even though I really wanted to. The orbs that left are waging a campaign against me. They’re calling me mad. “Just listen to them, when they open their mouth, none of it makes sense!” It’s difficult for me to argue this because they’re not wrong. But it still hurt, I thought they would understand my predicament, we were very close for a while.

I'll admit things are officially weird. I haven’t spoken in a week. One of the orbs has climbed out of my mouth and sprouted a body. They are trying to charm me. “Valentine’s Day is around the corner…”

I have been in this relationship for 2 months now. I think this is the safest I've ever felt. On 14/2 they told me they wanted to get to know me. I smiled. A week later they said they’re enjoying getting to know me. I smiled. I am getting used to their habits. They wake up earlier than I do and make me my coffee, just the way I like it. I am thankful for the little things. We thrive on the little things. We read poetry together one afternoon; they read it out loud, I couldn't.

I haven’t spoken in a year, though they don’t seem to mind. We are still together. I suppose I don’t mind either. The orbs have stopped rattling about. They are comfortable. They don’t mind either. There isn’t much in the way of conversation. My partner talks when they want to tell me something they’re excited about or when they want me to do something for them; I am sometimes asked “what do you think of this, it’s just the first draft…” and I have no way of telling them it’s good or bad or mediocre. This makes them sad sometimes but they sigh and shake their head like it was their mistake for asking me. I was never very good with expressions.

The orbs that left me have all become bodies that walk and talk and look like me. But they have no memory of me, so who are they? I have no memory of me, so who am I? The more I ponder this question the more translucent my skin becomes, the more my organs start to fade away, lose their density, I can float if I try.

I hear a knock on my door and when I open it, I see my own face but clearer, I hear my own voice, that I used to have. I almost don’t recognise it. I see my body but it’s sharp and heavy like it can hold its own. They smile and enter past me, the corner of their shoulder going through the corner of mine. I am beginning to feel lighter than ever and when I look down I am two inches above the ground.

They sit down next to my partner. There seems to be a spark, previously non existent. My partner talks and my guest responds, they have things to say and ideas to exchange and clutter-free mouths to help them focus on their thoughts. They have minds and bodies and when I look down, I can hardly see my own body. I am losing my mind.

I walk out the door. I have nothing to say.