Her jeans become shorts

As she was about to head out, she took one step, and felt her jeans get snagged on something that stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned and looked down to see she was stuck on a pallet, a splinter of wood caught in her ankle.

Her jeans were old and fraying, and had a lot of small, tiny holes in them. It was technically against the dress code to wear something like that, but her floor manager hardly ever noticed, and when she was behind the register, her legs were hidden from customers, so they didn’t notice either. She’d never had a problem with them, so she simply shrugged and knelt to try and pull it off.

In doing so, however, the snagged pants tore right before her eyes. A full inch of her pants ripped, and she froze, eyes wide.

“Shit,” she cursed. She continued slowly lowering herself down, but as she did so, the pants tore more and more, and by the time she could grab it, the rip was a full three inches. She was sure even her boss would be able to notice that.

She swore some more as she tried to pull the pants off, her panic increasing as in order to change, she’d need to leave the store and go to her car, which her boss would never let her do. She tugged and tugged, surprised at the tight hold it had on her pants before it finally gave. She fell back as nearly the entire pant leg came off, reducing that side of her jeans to that of shorts, the now frayed end sitting several inches above her knee. Even during the summer, that was way off dress code. Her panic increased as she stood up, only for her other leg to get caught on another pallet.

“Stupid wooden splinters!” she hissed as she leaned down, and the same series of events happened almost identically as before, to where by the time she pulled away and slammed against the wall, both legs of her pants were gone, leaving her in what could now be called shorts. She couldn’t help but blush a bit at her now exposed, slender legs, and as she reached for the strips of denim, she heard a voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She closed her eyes and winced as she heard footsteps approaching, and when she opened her eyes, she found a man standing before her, his girth intimidating despite the fact that he was a relatively short man. His slightly pudgy face held an expression of anger as she could see it was her floor manager, Marcus.

“Sir, I can-“

“You know you can’t wear shorts unless specifically specified! You know I’ll have to write you up for this if you can’t immediately change,” he said, and waited. She knew he’d never let her leave unless she was on her break, even to go to the car, so she sighed, annoyed that the sleazy man was able to see her legs. He was the kind of man who had let the tiniest bit of power go to his head, and now he always tried his best to find ways to get people written up. The only saving grace was that he wasn’t the best at noticing things.

“I-I can’t, sir…” she said, and the man huffed as he turned and walked away. She groaned once he was gone. It wasn’t a big deal since it would be her first write-up in months, but it still hurt. She once again glanced down at her now ruined pants, sighing.

At least it wasn’t that bad. Better than having a ripped shirt, she supposed.

Though she was unaware it would only be the start of her misery that day.