skirt story

An unexpected sequel to my bra story of a few months ago:

A few days ago while walking back home from a coffee shop where I’d been hiding for the evening, I passed by the library and noticed a garment neatly deposited on the hand rail for the handicap ramp. Further inspection revealed it to be a skirt; further further inspection revealed another skirt beneath, and a blouse beneath that. I checked yesterday afternoon, and it was still there; and I checked about half an hour ago, and it continues to still be there.

I know there is a story here; possibly there are several stories. Is there some poor soul now wandering the streets of New Paltz in nothing but her sous-vêtements? What led her to disrobe in such a place at such a time? Is this in any way connected to the bra I saw at various locations a few months ago? Also, what is my role in this unfolding drama? Am I destined to be nothing more than an observant chronicler of my own confusion, or will I some day uncover the truth?


One Response

  1. Or will you join and leave your pants behind.
    Har, no pun intended.

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