"What's the matter?" I called.
My brother-in-law looked up, concerned.
"Are you alright?" I called again.
"My retainer," she said, tears forming. "I don't have my retainer."
She had left her retainer in a napkin on the table in the restaurant at the airport.
Oh, gosh. We'd never find that. Never.
My older daughter said, "I think you better translate this debacle, cause he thinks she just doesn't like the juice."