The Naked Truth

This short story is from <Heartwarming Collection of Short Stories for Seniors: 2 Books in 1> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!

Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel. –Horace Walpole

Mildred had planned a peaceful morning—a little tea and gardening. But that all went out the window when she stepped outside in her bathrobe to check the weather. As the door clicked shut behind her, Mildred froze.

Locked out. In nothing but her bathrobe.

“Of course,” she muttered, staring at the door like it might magically unlock itself. Spoiler: it didn’t. She took a deep breath, weighing her options. No spare key, no phone, and certainly no intention of parading around the neighborhood like this. Then she remembered—the window in the back. She always left it open for “fresh air.” That might be her way in.

Mildred scurried to the backyard, robe flapping behind her. When she got to the window, her heart sank. It was much higher than she remembered. No problem, she thought. She grabbed a small stool from the garden shed and stood on it, wobbling slightly as she stretched for the window. But just as she thought she had a chance, her bathrobe caught on a low-hanging branch, leaving her half-exposed.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she hissed, tugging at the robe.

And then the barking began.

Max, the neighbor’s overly enthusiastic dog, had spotted her. He barked like she was an intruder, loud enough to wake the whole street.

“Great. Just great,” Mildred grumbled, still tangled in the tree.

Before she could untangle herself, she heard voices approaching. Her heart stopped—it was Mrs. Davenport and Mr. Jenkins, the nosiest neighbors in the world, heading right toward her yard. Panicking, Mildred dropped to the ground and crawled behind a bush. From her new hiding spot, she could hear Mrs. Davenport calling out,

“Mildred? Are you home?”

Max kept barking, practically giving away her location like a tattling toddler. Mrs. Davenport’s long-winded conversation with Mr. Jenkins continued, but thankfully, they soon gave up and wandered back across the street. Mildred peeked out from behind the bush, frazzled but unseen.

“Okay, think,” she told herself. The garage! Maybe the side door was unlocked. She hurried to the garage, her last hope. The side door creaked open easily—victory! But the internal door to the house? Locked.

“Oh, come on!” she groaned.

Just as she was about to admit defeat, she heard a familiar voice—her granddaughter, Emily, was walking up the driveway. Mildred, mortified and relieved, poked her head out from the garage.

“Emily, darling… I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a situation. ”Emily burst out laughing when Mildred explained the ordeal.

“You locked yourself out in a bathrobe?” she gasped, clutching her stomach.

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up,” Mildred said, blushing. “Now, can you grab the spare key?” Emily, still laughing, found the hidden key (which Mildred had forgotten about) and let her inside. Once back in her clothes, Mildred sat down with Emily over tea, both giggling about the morning.

“I’m never going outside,” Mildred promised.

“Good idea, Grandma. But you have to admit—that was a wild experience.” Emily just smiled. And Mildred, though red-faced, couldn’t help but agree.

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