That goddamn disarming smile.

Its flaws (the teeth's off-white shading and the overzealous right mandibular central incisor and the asymmetry of the whole thing) exacerbate its saccharine nature, lulling me (or trying to lull me) into a sense of security akin to that experienced whilst within a mother's womb, or a hyperbaric chamber; not comforting per se, but reassuring, as though the smile has absorbed (robbed, really) its owner's sentience and speaks for itself, speaks and says that, here, safety will be found in abundance for now and forever, reminding me, as if I have always known, that nothing harmful will come my way so long as I remain within the entrancement of the smile (but being sure, of course, not to warn me of the implications of such an agreement).