Only a Shirt

The Lost and Found closet was darker and smaller than Isabel remembered, more like a storage cupboard than a place where useful things might be kept. She flicked on the light, her pulse pounding so hard it made her vision throb. Rows of mismatched items sat piled on a metal shelf, forgotten shoes, scarves, a broken umbrella, a child’s backpack.

She rifled through the heap with frantic hands, praying for something, anything that could cover her. Her underwear clung uncomfortably tight as she crouched, the thin fabric her only protection in a place she had no business being exposed. The thought of the Zoom meeting pressed heavy on her mind, executives, including Victoria’s father, watching her on camera. If she did not show up, she might as well hand the promotion to Ryan.

Finally, she spotted folded pants at the back of the shelf. Salvation. She grabbed the first pair, black dress pants, and yanked them up her legs. They stopped stubbornly at her thighs, refusing to go further. She exhaled a strangled sound and tore them off, tossing them aside before trying another pair. These were blue jeans, scuffed and faded, but still too small. They barely reached past her hips before digging into her skin. Another pair. Then another. Each rejection sent a deeper wave of humiliation through her chest. Her curvier frame simply did not fit into anything.

“Please,” she whispered into the stale air, but there was nothing.

Her stomach dropped. There would be no pants.

On the lower shelf, she noticed fabric dangling like a white flag. A men’s dress shirt, wrinkled and slightly stained near the cuffs. She snatched it up, her hope fragile but stubborn. The shirt was oversized, the cotton swallowing her arms and shoulders when she slipped it on. For one **** second, she imagined she could make it work. She could pass it off as a deliberately casual look, a borrowed shirt, styled like a dress. It might even seem intentional.

But then her eyes caught the ruin. Every button, from collar to hem, was gone. Only loose threads remained. When she tried to pull the two sides together, they overlapped, but the instant she let go, the shirt sagged open again, baring the full curve of her chest. Her breasts were fully visible if she was not careful, the gaping fabric threatening to betray her with every breath.

“No, no, no…” she muttered, squeezing the shirt shut with trembling hands.

Still, this was all she had. She could keep her arms folded across her chest, clutching the fabric together. She would look ridiculous, and her bare legs and cotton underwear would still be obvious beneath the hem, but at least it was something. At least she would not be walking back through the building completely naked.

Her mind spun, calculating the time. The Zoom meeting loomed closer with every second. If she was not back at her desk soon, she might not get logged in at all.

That meant she had to move. She had to leave the safety of the closet and return to her floor. Which meant another choice.

The elevator was closer. Fewer steps, less chance of her being spotted on this floor. But stepping inside an elevator left her powerless if someone else joined. She could be trapped again, this time with nothing but a gaping shirt and underwear to shield herself.

The stairwell was farther away. To get to it, she would have to walk nearly the entire floor, past open desks, past potential coworkers who might glance up at exactly the wrong moment. And once she reached the stairs, there was the added risk that on the floor above she could run right into Ryan. He was a rival she could not afford to be humiliated in front of, not like this.

Her knuckles whitened on the edges of the shirt, holding it tight to her chest. Either way, she risked disaster.

Stairwell or elevator. Those were the only two doors left between her and the meeting that might decide her future.