She dusted on the scented powder He liked, which smelled
of vanilla and cinnamon-- good enough to eat, He'd said. Then She
cinched the towel around Her damp body and plugged in the blow
dryer. She hated this part; it was so boring. It took forever to dry
Her yard of thick, sun-bleached hair: style it, gel it, spray it, tease
it into the right shape with the brush. But there was no alternative;
if She didn't, She looked like hell. While She waited for Her curling
iron to heat up, She brushed Her teeth, flossed and used mouth-
wash. She curled back Her lips and admired Her teeth; the money
for that bridgework had been worth it.