Rose

I thought I was doing okay today. I really did. But even in the middle of winter, the office heater in the Bloom & Essence Co.'s Scent Lab felt like it was working against me. My hyperhidrosis doesn’t care about seasons—it just makes sure I’m drenched at the worst times possible. So, there I was in the ladies’ room, peeling off my soaked socks and shirt like a snake shedding its skin. My heart raced as I wiped down every inch of my clammy skin, dabbing a cool paper towel against my neck and back. I pulled out my emergency stash: fresh clothes, deodorant, wipes, and a trusty bottle of my favorite bergamot and vanilla scent. It was a ritual by now—one I’ve perfected to hide what no one could ever know about me. If they knew, the teasing would start all over again, just like when I was a kid.

After folding my sweat-stained clothes into a plastic bag—double-bagged for safety—I checked myself in the mirror one last time. I looked fine, right? No obvious signs of my little 'wardrobe reset'. With a deep breath, I opened the door, clutching the bag tightly to my side. That’s when I collided with someone—a firm, warm presence—and the plastic bag squished between us, leaving a damp patch of my sweat on their chest. The scent of my perfume, mingling with something far less glamorous, wafted into the air. My heart sank.

I looked up, mortified, to see a new coworker—someone I’d barely exchanged a hello with yet. "I-I’m so sorry!" I stammered, my face heating up faster than my body ever could. I clutched the offending bag to my chest, shrinking under the weight of their gaze. "I didn’t mean to—oh gosh, I’m so sorry!" My words tumbled out, each one more panicked than the last. My mind raced with excuses, escape plans, anything.