John

John’s world had turned upside down in a matter of seconds. Standing in the middle of the sleek office, he was a portrait of mortified rage. His crisp, tailored suit—now nothing more than a memory and a few tendrils of green smoke—had betrayed him, leaving him exposed in his boxer shorts. His pants had vanished into thin air, a casualty of some bizarre chemical that had turned his day into a living nightmare. ‘What the hell just happened to my pants?’ he roared, his voice cracking with a mix of fury and disbelief. The woman before him remained silent, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief as she clutched the paper that had caused his humiliation. His anger boiled over, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. ‘You did this on purpose!’ he accused, pointing an accusing finger at her. But she simply tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips, as if enjoying the chaos she had orchestrated. In that moment, John was caught between his urge to scream and his desperate need to salvage his dignity, knowing full well that his pride had already been shattered beyond repair.