Blanket Betrayal

The cart rattled over uneven pavement, each bump jarring Lauren's cramped body. She clutched the blanket like a lifeline, but as Andrew turned a corner sharply, a corner of the fabric caught on a protruding bolt. It ripped away with a tear, leaving her exposed in the gauze scraps—barely a bandage over her chest and hips, translucent from the earlier wash.

Gasps erupted from nearby tourists. "Is that... a person?" a woman exclaimed. Lauren shrieked inwardly, curling tighter, face buried in her knees. Kids laughed, pointing; phones flashed. "Mom, the monkey's bald!" one yelled. Humiliation burned hotter than the sun; she felt every eye on her pale, petite form, the remaining fur clumps making her look like a patchy, escaped lab experiment.

Andrew halted, frowning at the commotion. "What the—?" He peered into the cage, eyes widening. "Hey! You're not a monkey!"

Lauren's voice cracked. "No kidding! Let me out!"

But before he could, a supervisor rushed over, radio crackling. "What's the holdup? Get that to the aviary—wait, is that the missing visitor?" Chaos ensued: more staff, gawking crowds. Lauren rattled the bars, tears streaming. "This is a nightmare!"

Security arrived, draping a jacket over the cage for "decency." But the damage was done—whispers spread, videos likely viral already. Wheeled to the admin office under stares, Lauren vowed **** on the zoo, Martha, Coco—everyone.

Yet as they passed the elephant exhibit, Martha trumpeted mockingly. Karma wasn't done with her yet.