Heading Home!

God, June wanted to move. She often dreamt of the countryside. A remote house, working out in the fields, living off the land. The closest neighbor, a mile away, at minimum. That was the dream!

But no. Not today. Today, like every day, June was living in the big city. Arguably... The worst place for a self-professed germaphobe that was actually suffering from an embarrassing curse.

As a receptionist at a big office building, June didn't have to worry about her clothes being touched too much. She could even relax somewhat! But today, despite her constant reminders that she didn't like such physical contact...

Her boss pat her on the shoulder.

Usually an innocuous, even supportive move. He wasn't being creepy-- Rather, he'd been gleefully introducing her to a colleague! But that touch, feeling that hand meet fabric...

The rest of the day had been hell. She felt gross. Disgusted. Knowing her filthy her shirt was. To her, it was the equivalent of wearing something drenched in sweat and food stains!

She wanted nothing more than to take it off and throw it in the wash. But first-- She had to get home.

Uber was her best friend in that regard. Hop in a car, catch up on emails, not having to worry about any crowds. So imagine her dismay when she realized... Her phone was dead.

She'd have to walk. Or use... Public transit... Risking physical contact all the while.