Pearly White

Every town has something it protects.

In ours, it was a tooth. The Pearly White — up on a pedestal, gold at the base, white at the crown, never cracked, never dimmed. People walked past it for generations and it stayed flawless. Not luck. Somebody cared for it every single day, then handed that job to the next person, who handed it to the next.

A kid once asked the Keeper why it still looked perfect after all that time. He didn't say a word about brushing or flossing. He just said, "Perfection was never the goal. Care was."