Toothbrush
by Barry Graham

I try to convince her that toothbrushes have no distinct gender. I present a sound argument based on logic, using strategies from Plato’s topoi. I introduce complex algorithms to display the improbability, but still she is not convinced. I am assumed guilty. The clear plastic toothbrush with a green stripe down the center, found in my bathroom, is decidedly feminine; therefore, proof enough there was another woman in my shower.

Last week, it was a long black hair found inside the sink. She is a Sherlock Holmes forensic specialist, inspecting hair fibers with a magnifying glass. She pulled two strands from her own head for purposes of scientific comparison; hers, a gorgeous sandy blonde, not a match. She considered calling Horatio for permission to use the lab for DNA testing. I tell myself it wasn’t always like this – but I think it was.

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