“Open a little wider,” said the dentist.

The musician obeyed.

“No, that’s an E-flat,” said the dentist. “I need more of an F.”

The musician attempted to laugh but was already hosting three metal instruments and a suction tube.

The dentist adjusted the temporary crown.

“Almost finished.”

The ceiling speakers emitted an anonymous piano arrangement of a once-famous love song.

The musician raised an eyebrow.

“What is it?” asked the dentist.

The musician pointed upward.

“The music?”

The musician nodded emphatically.

“You don’t like it?”

He made a sound between a groan and a bassoon.

The dentist removed the instruments.

“There. You can speak.”

“I was thinking,” the musician said. “Someone spent months writing that song. Then another person spent weeks arranging it. Then somebody decided the best destiny for all was to accompany fluoride treatments.”

“I never thought about it like that.”

The dentist resumed polishing.

“I actually like having music on.”

“So do I,” said the musician. “I just wish it startled me.”

“You want surprises while somebody is drilling your mouth?”

The crown clicked into place.

The dentist handed him a mirror.

“How does it feel?”

The musician smiled.

“Wonderful.”

He paused and listened to the speakers.

“Now if you could do something about that arrangement, I’d call it a perfect appointment.”

“For the music you’ll need a much more expensive specialist,” said the dentist.