Spring announced itself through a waft of rose and jasmine as Luisa opened the window. She sneezed, closed it a fraction and turned on the television.
The X-Factor was on. She lowered herself onto the couch and leaned forward. Seal was making a peace-out symbol at one of the contestants, false praise falling from his lips in delicious hypocrisy. The woman with enough rolls of fat to feed an impoverished African nation bobbed up and down and grinned on five-inch heels. Her red lips glistened under the stage lights, her mouth large and hungry.