What If Milk Teeth Remembered

Suppose a milk tooth, once lost beneath the pillow, kept some thin thread to the mouth that grew it. Not pain, nothing so crude. Call it a low hum traveling through jawbone and coin exchange, through the small fist that clutched both in the dark. The permanent teeth arrive already crowded with someone else's arrangement, but what if one, just one, in the lower row, still angles the way that first tooth did, still remembers a mouth smaller than this one, a mouth that has since been replaced twice over, bone by bone, and yet keeps insisting, quietly, on the old bite.