With open blisters on my heels, the cute wedges no longer seemed so cute. In a tizzy, I hurled the shoes in an oil puddle. I stared at them for a minute knowing I’d never hear the end from Sara. “Eh!” I shrugged. I didn’t care.

The heat was smothering like a sauna, maxed. I fanned myself with my hand. My throat was as parched as the dry soil under my feet. I didn’t want to drink the water at the hotel. It was murky and smelled like fish. I dove into my pockets for my change. I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, though my thirst overrode my hunger. An ice-cold Coke would help settled my nerves.

I withdrew my hand from my pocket and looked at the contents. Only seventy-five cents. “Dammit to hell!” Could my day get any worse? With anger pushing the edge, I slammed the coins on the ground. They bounced with a ding, landing in the pool of oil, along with the shoe. I’d reached my limit. I caved, laying my face in my palms, and let the tears rip.

Unclear how long I’d been sitting there when someone tapped my shoulder. I snapped my head up, startled. I blinked back the blur of tears as my eyes encountered the evil-eyed woman who’d bumped into me earlier. What did she want? I stared back at her in silence.

“How y’are, Chile?” she whistled through what I assumed were dentures. “Ya look thirsty.” She reached out handing me a bottled Coke. Condensation dripped from the glass. A good indication it was cold. My eyes rounded, surprised.

“Thank you, but I can’t pay you.” I sniffed. “All I have is a few coins.” I pointed to the quarters in the oil puddle.

The elderly woman waved her hand. “No worry, Catin,” (French for pretty girl).