Smile "You look so precious when you smile." My mother said as she slid the brush down my silk hair, staring at my eyes in the reflection of the mirror."Why don't you smile more often?" I took a moment to contemplate the question while counting the brush strokes tug... One... Two... Three... "You see mother, once you do something often it is no longer special." The brush stopped, "It is very much like us nobles and how properly groomed we are. To us, it is part of our daily routine but to peasants it is rare; a diamond in the rubble." The mother looked shocked by her daughter's intelligence. The daughter responded with a smile. The world seemed to stand still.