Paranoia

It was just after noon when I noticed it. My first reaction was "What the fuck?!?!" as I examined the hole in my sleeve. How did I rip this shirt without even noticing?

At first I was pissed off. A nice shirt was ruined because of this slash on the arm. I examined it a bit more to see if it was from wear and tear. The elbows on shirts will eventually wear down, fray and tear. This wasn't the case. It was damn solid all around the hole. Not a hint of the fabric being worn down. I must have caught it on something but I had no clue what, where, or when.

That was when the paranoia set in. Did it happen today? I think it did. It must have. No way have I been wearing this shirt with a hole in it without noticing. Has anyone else noticed it? Are they talking about my holey shirt? Are they whispering to each other that it has been weeks, possibly months that I have been wearing this shirt with the hole in it? I don't want to be the guy who is known for wearing raggedy clothes in the office. Please, please don't let me be that guy!

I proceeded to stay at my desk for the rest of the afternoon. If I had to leave my desk, I walked around either keeping my arm close to my body or I had my hand over the hole, acting like I had an injury that was bothering me.

Funny thing, when I got home, I just about put the shirt back in the closet. I caught myself just before I hung it back up. I threw it on the floor and cursed my luck.

Funnier, I would end up at the bar and Annette would hand me 10 bucks. I gave her a quizzical look and asked what it was for? It was my share of the winnings from the casino last week. Again with quizzical look on face I asked how I could win when I wasn't even there. I was told I was there in spirit and to take money. Well, if you insist. That ten spot went towards the tip as we enjoyed a good night of drinking beer with friends.

Guess my luck isn't that bad after all.