It was cloudy and snowy outside, so I decided to do some laundry. When I went to check the clothes I had washed, I found a white dress shirt I had no memory of owning staring back at me.

I'm not sure why I paid any heed to it; I must have done laundry enough times to have lost track of the items in my possession, and if it was a normal day, it's probably what I would've done. But for whatever reason, I felt something weird, and it wouldn't leave me. I decided to check the tag to find the size, but the tag was cut off. Then I checked the sleeves and the neck, to see if I had any luck. The sleeves were long, and the neck opening was big, and I could tell I had never worn it before. I brought it to my wife, and she too had no memory of it. She told me to just drop it, and so I did.<br><br>I did my best to erase the whole thing from my mind, but sometimes when my wife was out working, I couldn't help but feel like something was off. And then there was the noise.<br><br>I'm not sure how to describe it, but it's sort of like when you walk out of a quiet room and into a big, open space. It's as if you can hear yourself being quiet. It was like that, but more, and it was only in my ears. I wasn't sure what it was, but I thought maybe I had come down with something, so I tried to forget about it as well. <br><br>But then there were the stains.<br><br>I have no idea when or how it happened, but when I pulled the shirt out from the bag again to examine it, I noticed big splotches of red all over it. I could swear that I never saw those stains before. I took it to my wife again, and of course she had no idea of its origin, but this time she wasn't as calm about it. We were both freaking out by then, so we had decided to take it to the cleaners and see if they could say anything helpful. The receptionist had said that she would make sure her husband looked at it, and that we'd hear from them soon. It was 5pm when we dropped it off, and the man called us at 9pm. He had a lot of questions to ask before we could come to pick it up.<br><br>What was my height and weight? How long were my arms?<br><br>My wife answered for me, and when she was done, she hung up and looked at me blankly. I asked her what he said, and she told me he'd see us soon. When we arrived, he greeted us silently, took us into the back, and blocked off the view of the rest of his employees. He pulled out the shirt, and my wife began to sob silently. The stains had been removed, and under them were tears. Big tears, all along the torso, spreading from the opening of the collar. <br><br>There was a cut in the middle of the seam, big enough for a head to fit through. And it was tailored specifically to my shape and size.<br><br>&#x200B;