Don't Make Me Choose Between You and My Shoes by Dixie Cash

couldn’t control the smile that traveled all the way across her face. She grabbed the girl’s hand and squeezed it between her own. “Oh, my gosh, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you so much.”
    The waitress tucked back her chin and frowned. “You’re not a model?”
    â€œHeavens, no. I’m a librarian.”
    â€œI gotta read more books,” the waitress muttered as she walked away.
    Celina sat in the booth relishing the confetti of dialects all around her. Soon she was served a burger the size of a dinner plate, a separate plate heaped with french fries and a slice of cheesecake as big as her size-ten shoe. Even after she had scarfed down as much as she could eat, she still had enough left for both tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch. This bounty was an unexpected blessing. She asked for a doggie bag. The waitress gave her a look, but then grinned when she figured out that Celina wanted to take the leftovers with her.
    The restaurant’s crowd was thinning out. Celina glanced at her watch and saw that it was nine o’clock in Texas, which meant it was ten o’clock in New York City. She left the diner and strolled back to the Y, fascinated. At ten o’clock, there had to be more people out on the sidewalks all around her than there were citizens in Dime Box.
    Back in her room, she prepared for bed, her body acutely aware she had slept sitting upright for almost two days. She picked up her overnight bag and headed for the bathroom atthe end of the hall. Sharing a bathroom with who knew how many others hadn’t exactly been a part of her plan.
    She returned and settled into the narrow bed. Just extending her long legs should have brought relaxation, but now she felt as if she had swallowed a potent dose of caffeine. Combined with the newness of her surroundings and the unfamiliar bed, the sounds of the city seemed amplified.
    She had set the food she had brought from the restaurant on the chair beside the bed. The aroma teased her. Frustrated, she clicked on the reading light clipped to the headboard, threw back the covers and sat up. She reached for the sack of food and, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, indulged herself with cheesecake.
    Between bites she reached for her purse. One of the benefits of a really small room, she concluded, was that she could reach almost all four corners and not leave the bed. She pulled the conference information from her purse and read it for the umpteenth time.
    Registration and picking up material began at 11 A.M . Odd that things didn’t start earlier, she thought. A luncheon and a welcoming speech by the esteemed forensic pathologist, Dr. William Wray, were scheduled at noon. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to see him in person. She had listened to his commentary on highly publicized murder cases on the TV news for years.
    Two breakout sessions presented by two detectives from the NYPD were scheduled in the afternoon, then a happy hour at the hotel lounge. In a sudden surge of giddiness she wrapped her arms around her body and grinned. Happy hourin the hotel lounge. She had never been to happy hour anywhere . Tomorrow would be a great day and she intended to make the most of it.
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    â€œYou asleep?” Debbie Sue whispered in the dark.
    â€œYes,” Edwina mumbled.
    â€œNo you’re not. Listen, since we’re both awake, let’s go over our presentation. We’ve got time to put a shine on it. You know, really dazzle ’em.”
    â€œIf you want me to dazzle an audience, you’d better let me sleep. I need all the rest I can get. I’m fighting a battle with Mother Nature and she’s winning. Have you looked at the skin around my eyes lately? It looks like the Mohave Desert.”
    Debbie Sue sat up and switched on the lamp. “No, it doesn’t. C’mon. Get the speeches we worked on out of your bag and let’s read them