It takes a sick world to turn it into a curse

Ivo was glad to listen and let Thiago speak.

Soon he had a clear mental image of Taís. He knew how she liked to spin her cup three times between her palms before taking the first sip. How she sang in the shower, and her voice got louder to drawn out the free-trial warning (when she got really annoyed she'd scream the lyrics over it).

He could imagine her dancing with the broom along the floor whenever it was her turn to do chores, her voluminous hair kept away from her face by a red bandana that she sometimes also wore around her neck.

Ivo could almost hear her braying laugh, which sat at such odds with her lovely face. "She sounded like a donkey," Thiago had said, suppressing his laughter. "I loved her but she had the ugliest laugh in the world."