Bethany wasn’t alarmed, or even concerned, at first. It was just a tiny hole, and T-shirts get holes. She’d initially noticed it when Jed, her partner, got sick, and the hole was the size of a pinhole-camera aperture. She’d set the shirt aside—to deal with later—but then the doctors told them there was nothing more they could do, and Bethany forgot about it.
But now, three years later, she’d found the shirt again while sorting through Jed’s things. Wearing it felt almost familiar, but the hole seemed bigger. Still, Bethany was certain no one would notice, especially on a computer screen. People barely seemed to see her anymore, let alone her clothing. When Jed died, they were still working in person, and her colleagues just hurried past her office as if she weren’t there. Jed’s name was never uttered, though a few people mumbled awkward condolences. And when Bethany returned to work after the funeral, her boss had matter-of-factly set a large stack of folders on her desk and said, “These files can’t wait any longer.”
Now, not only did the hole in the T-shirt seem larger than Bethany remembered, but it steadily increased in size as she went about her day. The culmination came during an afternoon Zoom meeting, when one of her now-remote colleagues pointed it out. Bethany was shocked to look at herself on the screen and see that the hole had grown so large that half her bra was showing. Embarrassed, she hopped up and grabbed a sweatshirt to cover herself with, and everyone returned to discussing conversion rates and how to procure new clients. But soon the conversation stalled uncomfortably once again because Bethany’s sweatshirt had also developed a hole, inexplicably, at the exact same spot as the T-shirt, but much larger, so now a wide expanse of skin within Bethany’s thoracic region was exposed. Then, to her horror, Bethany watched in real time as the hole seared through her membranes, tissue, and muscles, revealing her heart, a healthy red organ, beating loud and visible for all on the Zoom to see.
Bethany’s colleagues just gawped. Somebody thought to ask if it hurt.
“No,” Bethany said, dazed and wondering why there wasn’t any blood, “I can’t feel a thing.”
