Why? (Or why not?) —Optional midterm exam question, Philosophy 322 “I love that,” Izzie said. “What?” “Your chipped tooth.” She ran the tip of her tongue over it again. “It’s a flaw.” “That’s why.” They stood beside the wind-up record player, down in the cave, their arms around each other, music of long ago all around them; the words incomprehensible to Nat, the emotions not. “How did you do it?” Izzie asked. “Do what?” “Chip your tooth.” “I was born with it. My mom has the same thing, same tooth.” “Your mom—” Izzie began, and stopped herself. “What about her?” “Oops,” Izzie said. Nat backed up a little, still holding Izzie, but at arm’s length. “What about her?” “I hope to meet her one day.” “That’s not what you were going to say.” Izzie sighed. “She sounds nice, that’s all.” But he’d never really discussed his mother with Izzie. “Who says?” “You can be relentless.” “Sorry.” “I’m used to it.
