Chapter 26: Sharing a panel

So I make it down stairs an hour after getting up. Which is still half an hour before the panel begins. Yeah, I padded my schedule. Want to know why? Because it’s not a movie, and I’m smart. S-M-R-T, to quote Homer. I look awake. A clever illusion propagated by the foundation makeup, light blush, eyeliner, and very little lipstick. Of course, I never have more than a little bit of lipstick on. But that’s because my lips are, as I’ve said, freakishly small.

I look awake. But I’m not. Need coffee. That black god, bane of my bedroom, savior of my studies in college, warrior of my writing career, architect of the alliteration in this sentence. I love it. I like my coffee the way I like my men: Three sugars, a little bit of cream. I don’t know what that means, but I bet someone would find it sexy. Now, if that someone is only gorgeous, brilliant, and rich, the world would be perfect.