Listen to her

Tiffany gave me the elevator eyes then shrugged. "Well, you're almost topless, and your panties are hanging out. What do you mean, 'what did you just say'?"

"My what?" I looked down. I didn't know what I was wearing. I didn't know what I was not wearing, either. I've never felt like this before, the question of what I was wearing was like some unsolvable math problem I just can't get my head around.

"Clara, are you okay?" Tiffany said.

I caught a flash behind her. Suddenly all I saw was every student in the lecture hall either laughing, gawking, or having their phones out and recording.

I'm still not sure what's going on. I put on the blouse this morning, just as usual. I clearly remember it. So there was no way I was "almost topless" as Tiffany said. But that would explain why everybody is acting so differently than usual. But how is that even possible?

Still, my arms began to cover my breasts. I think I feel the fabric of my blouse, so that can't be wrong.

"What do you mean, almost topless?" I said, as Tiffany and I sat down at our usual spot.

"Can't you see what you're wearing?"

I looked down again, at my blouse? Or was it a bra? Or, God forbid, my fucking naked boobs? "I don't..." I said, and shook my head. "I don't know."

"It's all over Instagram now," Tiffany said, and showed me her phone. It was just taken a minute ago, when Tiffany and I were walking down the stairs. I concentrated hard at my image in the video, but something in my mind just - it's just not working.

"Really? You don't see anything?"

"Shut up, I'm trying!" I said. "Ugh."

What if I really was almost topless?

"What am I wearing, Tiffany? What am I really wearing?" I ask, holding up my arms. She looks at me another time, another long time. I think everybody is staring. Oh, my God. What if my topless pictures are really all over Instagram? Please, please say that's not happening.