Transit, 10

In the elevator's embrace, Lori was encircled by her own image, reflected infinitely in the clinical glow of its mirrored walls. Every facet of her attire was mercilessly replicated, from the deep plunge of the halter top to the taut pull of the denim shorts. The red heels now seemed almost garish in their prominence, a stark reminder of her current predicament.

She tried to shrink into herself, to become smaller against the relentless gaze of her own multiplied reflection. The embarrassment was a tangible thing, wrapping around her like a thick blanket, stifling in its intensity. She hunched her shoulders and looked down at the floor, wishing she could disappear into the elevator's plush carpet.

Her reflection didn't cooperate. It stared back at her, a silent judgment, echoing the shock of her attire with unflinching honesty. Every time she glanced up, hoping for some reprieve, she was confronted by the same image—her own self, multiplied and reflected back at her in high definition.

"This is so embarrassing," Lori murmured, the words lost amidst the sea of reflections. She clasped her hands in front of her, an instinctive gesture to cover and protect, to maintain some semblance of modesty. The cool air of the elevator brushed against the exposed skin of her stomach and back, sending a shiver through her despite the warmth of mortification that flushed her face.

The elevator continued its smooth descent, indifferent to the turmoil within. Lori could feel the moment drawing closer when the doors would open and she would be thrust into the full view of the hotel's public spaces. The thought sent a new wave of anxiety through her, and she took a deep, steadying breath, trying to quell the fluttering in her chest.

As the elevator chimed its arrival, she steeled herself, straightened her posture, and tried to muster a veneer of nonchalance. The doors parted, and Lori stepped out, her head held high, her stride deliberate. She might not have the costume of her confidence, but she was determined not to let her discomfort show. The lobby lay before her, a vast expanse to cross in a pair of shoes that felt too bright, too high, too much like beacons of her unease. But step by step, she began to cross it.