MIRANDA
A nap did wonders, all right. Miranda showered, pulled on her new gold dress with its matching high heels, and put on light make-up. Her brown hair was shoulder-length and a mass of un-styleable curls. The most she could do with it was brush the loops to a glossy shine.
Her room was on the third floor, its flat glass window facing the light and the noise of the Strip. Her room was small and plain with a bed, a dresser, a chair, nightstand, and single floor lamp.
Nearly everything was navy blue, from the velvet wallpaper to the shaggy carpet. Purple stripes zigzagged across the bed's comforter and the floor lamp's shade was purple, too. Walking into the room was like walking into a badly decorated cave.
She'd looked over the hotel's brochure and knew that it contained several shops, including one she wanted to explore. Grabbing her tiny gold purse, she slung the thin strap over her shoulder and left.
