Madeline brushed out her hair in the bathroom before efficiently returning it to a neat and tidy bun. Smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her skirt with dampened hands, she decided against a wardrobe change. Mentally, though, she swapped out the low healed pumps for the simple flats. Movie theaters floors were notoriously sticky or slick, which required a more sensible choice of shoes.
She was just resting on the corner of bed and slipping them on when she heard Melina's yell. Stopping with one flat half on, half off, she wondered if they would be good enough to wear out to eat. In the darkened movie theater, not one would care what she wore. But no one ate dinner in such low light.
She pursed her lips and finished putting them on, carefully easing them over her nylon stocking so as to not damage them. They would simply have to do, unless she wanted to take two pairs of shoes along with her. That seemed unwieldy and too absurd to be necessary.
Grabbing her purse and checking that her money was inside, she left her room. "I am feeling like Italian tonight," Madeline announced without preamble, "How about you?"