Crystal crossed her arms in front of the mirror frustrated with what she saw. Beanpole tall with a long, narrow face—she looked like a damned shovel. Irritated, she pushed a thick wad of black hair out of her face and held it back with two fingers. That didn’t seem to help at all. If anything, having her hair back emphasized the sharpness of her jawline. Sighing she let her hand drop to her side. Her hair sprang forward in an unruly mess.

“Oh you’re so pretty!” Crystal’s mom crowed from the doorway. In many ways she was the opposite of Crystal- short, pleasantly overweight and wearing a mischievous smile.

“No, Mom. You’re pretty. Sadly, I took after Dad.”

“Nonsense. Men love thin women, especially Americans. Which you’ll find out soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Crystal’s mom pantomimed zipping her mouth shut but her eyes were alight with secrets and her mouth threatened to break out into a smile.

“Mom!”

Gaily, the woman danced down the hallway.

“Mom, I’m twenty-seven. Twenty-seven!”