His teeth disappeared first; only three. It was inevitable, they understood. But it was so unexpected and random (only three?) that they were merely amused.
"You look tough. Nobody's gonna steal your wallet, looking like that." Leroy said.
Edmund beamed, like a brand-new Jack-o-lantern, and put on his hat. It was time for a walk.
"Not too cold for a walk, is it?" Leroy asked.
"I've been in colder." Edmund adjusted his hat. "Where I lived, the snow would pile until it crushed our houses. And we would have to build igloos atop the wreckage, and live in those for the winter, else squatters would claim the place. And as soon as it thawed, we'd have to build our houses all over again."
"You did that every winter?"
"No!" Edmund adjusted his hat. "That only happened twice growing up."
They passed a dog. "That looks a lot like my dog growing up!"
"I thought yours was bigger," Leroy said.
"I thought so, too. But that was the one! You can ask my sister. Have you met her?"
Leroy nodded, and adjusted Edmund's hat.
inspired by Discover Magazine article, "An Upside to Amyloids"
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