When he told people what he did, their normal reaction was one of disgust. There was nothing wrong with it, he’d argue – nothing illegal, immoral or perverse. Even so, most people thought there was something wrong with it.
He knew differently. He hadn’t chosen to do it, he simply felt he had to – like the alternative was even worse. What could he do, leave them there? Those little pieces of history?
Each one was a story in miniature, so much more so than the gemstones they so closely resembled. The anxiety, the near-terror of the child fearing the pain of loss. The pride of a parent witnessing their child growing up. Then nothing, the ignominy of being kept because these are things we shouldn’t throw away, until finally sitting unwanted and forgotten, sold in a job-lot at a house clearance after many years.
He had to do it, because no-one else would.
He bought the teeth because there are some things we shouldn’t throw away.