10 Minute Prompt: Write about where you "hurry, half-dressed and barefoot"

This morning I found myself feeling ready to head off to work and woke to the fact I needed to put on a shirt first. At least I had my pants on. Isn't that the dream cliche? Being at work without your pants on? Yet I was more worried about driving without a shirt on. Being seen by other drivers who might lose control of their car, who would most certainly gawk. I hadn't, in my imagination, even gotten to the point in my journey where I'd be at the elevators, bare shoulders shining honestly yet shyly under my chin. Riding elevators with people too polite to stare or ask. How could you not ask the half-naked person if she was OK? Why would you want to scuttle off to the safety and privacy of your cube in the hive, when something far more interesting was happening? How could I get all the way to work, let alone out of my front door, without a shirt on? Certainly embarrassment would slow my stride and turn my feet back to the house, back to the closet for a shirt. Clothes are just drones from the closet, doing the work of hiding when the closet can no longer do that work.