Andy (my husband in real life) has to go teach a class or something. I decide to ride with him, and we go into our closet to change, but i can’t find anything i want to wear, so i decide to go naked. He’s mildly surprised, Andy, perhaps resigned. On the way, we stop to pick up some other man who is surprised to the level of shocked to see me in my current state. He can’t stop looking first at my breasts (gaze lingers long) then away (quickly) when spoken to. i don’t try to hide myself and i don’t talk to him. i don’t enjoy his discomfort, i don’t seek it. i am simply dressed or not dressed as i am, and I feel smilingly, confidently free.

I go into the school, intending to go to Andy’s classroom, to fetch some clothes. I see another teacher in the hallway. She’s cute, wearing hippie clothes. She smiles and asks how I am. I tell her who I am and that I need to get into Andy’s room for something. I have draped a scarf around my neck so that each side of the scarf covers a breast. I long for a book or files to hug against my breasts for support and cover, but i don’t have one. I am no longer so comfortable as i was. I am no longer smiling. I talk quickly to her, hoping she’ll just give me what I need so i can move on. She says I only have less than 10 minutes, gives me a slip of paper that grants me permission, and I’m off.

Only when I get to the lower hall do I realize that I don’t know what room is Andy’s. I don’t even know what he teaches – age, subject – nothing. I can’t very well go back and ask. My phone rings. There’s a call saying somebody is either killed or going to be killed in the front office. The voice is frantic, the message is urgent. I am needed. Wanted. I’ve been beckoned. I’m wearing pants, but I still have no clothes on covering my breasts. Just that colorful, transparent, flowing scarf.

Can I go dressed like this? No, I don’t think so. I won’t be able to help unless I’m covered in an acceptable manner.

Teenagers are standing just outside this one exit door in the corner where one hall connects to another. I stop to ask them if they know the location of Andy’s room. They are too distracted at my appearance to do anything but nudge each other, point, and giggle in snorts.

I go back to the other teacher’s room, hoping she’ll have something I can borrow to at least wrap around me, to cover me enough so that I can go perhaps be of some assistance in this emergency. She’s annoyed with me because “they” have already come by to pick up her two allotted keys, and she couldn’t turn in all of hers because I am still holding one.