Isabel was folding her laundry again.

She carefully flattened each piece of clothing, before delicately and gingerly moving her hands to create the desired shape. First a shirt, then a towel. She had a job to do, and would finish it whether she liked it or not.

If you observed her closely you would notice the soft and subtle jiggles of the tiniest amount of baby fat on her chin, which some would describe as being flawless. Her chin was the perfect shape, not to bony, yet not too round either.

Others would notice the voluminous lengths of wavy hair that went across her face. Her absolutely stunning eyebrows. Like a caterpillar on a delicate leaf, her eyebrows managed to frame her face in a most picturesque manner.

When Isabel had to bend down to pick up a stray sock that had fallen on the ground, her perfectly symmetrical and prominent spine came into view. Arched like a cat, it had the most appealing number of bumps and ridges. Enough, I daresay, that her spine was enough to make most men faint.

Isobel was stunning, in her own way.