You were the young, unsuspecting girl who forgot to lock the door of the public-restroom stall. You looked about 15—an already-awkward time—and I caught you with your pants around your ankles. My sincerest apologies. We've all been there. Whether you're the violated or the violator, it's awkward. Sure, I'd rather be the one wrenching open the door than the one diving for the lock and covering one's bits. We both froze and stared at each other for about five seconds. To make matters worse, the moment I yanked your door open, a woman walking by began to smirk and giggle. I turned to her and opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I was so embarrassed I no longer needed to use the facilities. So one more time: Sorry, gal, and for God's sake, check the lock next time.
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