Crisanta felt incredibly lucky when she saw her skort being draped back over the door. If the hand dryer hadn’t still been going, she might have been too petrified to walk over to grab it, sure that her sister would hear her diaper crinkling as she moved. She felt much more secure with her skort back on, though, realistically, she doubted there was much muffling of sound going on there, except in her own mind.
She took a compact from her purse, used it to gauge when her face had turned a light enough shade of red that she felt all right opening the stall door. Kalina was still standing there, waiting. ‘Why doesn’t she leave me alone?’ she wondered, somewhat uncharitably, all things considered.
“Thanks,” she said, to be nice. Kalina gave her an odd look, continuing to stand there, in her way. “I’m fine,” she told her.
