Sunlight streamed through the living room blinds, stabbing Freddie directly in the eyes. He groaned, shifting on the lumpy cushions of his couch. His neck was stiff, his back ached, and for a split second, he hoped that the last eight hours had been a vivid, fever-induced hallucination caused by eating expired pizza.

He opened his eyes and blinked.
Selena was there.

She was crouching right next to the couch, her face inches from his, staring with unblinking intensity. She was wearing one of his white button-down shirts, but "wearing" was a generous term. Not a single button was fastened. It hung open completely, framing her torso like drapes on a window that was offering a very public view.

"Oh good," Selena chirped, a smile brightening her face. "You're finally back online."

Freddie let out a strangled yelp, scrambling backward until he fell off the couch and hit the floor with a thud. "Selena! What are you doing?!"

He scrambled up, grabbed the lapels of the shirt, and frantically pulled them together, his face burning hotter than a CPU without a cooling fan. "Cover up! You have to cover up! And where are the sweatpants I gave you last night?"

Selena looked down at her bare legs, then shrugged. "I uninstalled them."
"You... took them off?"

"They were baggy and shapeless," she explained matter-of-factly. "My analytics suggest that wearing them would cause a 40% drop in user engagement. I looked terrible. I can't let my ratings drop, Freddie."

"There are no ratings here! This is real life!" Freddie buttoned the shirt with shaking hands, trying respectfully to look at the ceiling while doing so. "Listen to me. You cannot walk around naked. As... amazing as the graphics are, you just can't."

"Why?"

"Because!" Freddie flailed his arms. "It's... it's the terms of service of the real world! You have to wear clothes!"
He sighed, realizing he was out of his depth. He looked at her-messy hair, oversized shirt, barefoot. "We need to get you your own clothes. I guess we're going to the mall."

Ten minutes later, Freddie had managed to wrestle Selena into a pair of his old gym shorts and an oversized zip-up hoodie. She looked like a drowning hip-hop artist, but at least she was covered.

"This texture is suboptimal," Selena complained, pulling at the hoodie as they stepped out the front door.

But her complaints vanished the moment they stepped onto the sidewalk. Selena froze. Her eyes went wide, reflecting the morning sky.

"What is that?" she whispered, pointing up.

"The sun," Freddie said. "Don't stare at it, you'll go blind."

"And this?" She held out her arms. "It feels like... invisible hands brushing against me."

"Wind. That's wind."

"And that sound?"

"Birds."

"It's... high definition," she breathed. Suddenly, her eyes locked onto the neighbor's front lawn. "Green carpet!"

"That's grass-Selena, wait!"

Before Freddie could stop her, she dove onto the lawn. She didn't just touch it; she rolled in it. She giggled maniacally, thrashing around in the morning dew like a Golden Retriever.

"Hey!" A voice shouted. The neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was standing on his porch with a coffee mug, looking horrified. "What the hell is wrong with your friend?"

Freddie winced, rushing over to pull Selena up. She had grass stains on her knees and leaves in her hair. "Sorry! So sorry, Mr. Henderson! She's... uh... she's from the city! She's never seen nature! She's very eco-friendly!"

He dragged her away, but they didn't make it far before a stray mutt trotted out from behind a hedge.

"Canine unit!" Selena shrieked with delight. "Who's a good boy?"

"Selena, don't, it might have rabies-"

Too late. She was already on the ground again, wrestling with the dirty dog, letting it lick her face while she laughed. Freddie had to physically lift her off the ground, holding her back by the hood of the jacket as she pawed at the air toward the confused dog.

"We have to go! The bus is coming!" Freddie panted, dragging her toward the stop.

By the time they reached the bus stop, Selena was grumpy.

"I am overheating," she announced, tugging at the collar of the jacket. "My core temperature is rising. This chassis isn't built for these layers."

"Just hang in there," Freddie pleaded, checking his watch. "We're almost to the store. Just tough it out for ten more minutes."

Two elderly men were sitting on the bench, playing chess. They looked up as the pair approached. One of them adjusted his spectacles, eyeing Selena. "Morning," he grunted. "Bit warm for a hoodie, isn't it, miss?"

"Affirmative," Selena said seriously. "It is a torture device."

"Selena, shhh," Freddie hissed.
"I cannot function like this," she declared. "System purge initiated."

"Wait, what?"

Zzzzzzip.

In one fluid motion, Selena grabbed the zipper of the hoodie and yanked it all the way down. Then, she threw the jacket wide open.

Freddie's soul left his body.
Because of the rush earlier, she wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. Just the jacket.

The two old men froze. Their eyes bulged comically. Then, in perfect unison, blood trickled from their noses.

"NO! NO! NO!" Freddie screamed.
He dove onto Selena, wrapping his arms around her and forcefully clamping the jacket shut, essentially tackling her into a bear hug.

"What are you doing?!" Selena demanded, muffled against his chest.
"Saving us from jail!" Freddie cried. He looked over his shoulder at the old men. One was wiping his nose with a handkerchief, looking dazed but euphoric.

"I'm so sorry! The zipper! It's broken! She's crazy!" Freddie babbled.
The old man gave a shaky thumbs up, blood still dripping onto his mustache. "Don't apologize, son. That's the best thing I've seen since 1974."

"You're a lucky guy, kid," the other one wheezed.

The bus ride was only slightly less traumatic. Selena spent the entire time with her face pressed against the glass, vibrating with excitement.

"Look at the velocity!" she shouted, causing other passengers to turn around. "Everything is rendering so fast! And the smell!" She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of stale sweat and diesel fumes. "It smells like... interaction!"

"It smells like body odor, Selena. Please sit down."

When they finally arrived at the department store, Freddie felt like he had run a marathon. He steered her into the women's clothing section, surrounded by racks of colorful fabrics.

"Okay," Freddie said, keeping his hands in his pockets so he didn't accidentally touch anything. "I have no idea how this works. Sizes make no sense here. Just... pick out anything that catches your eye."
Selena's eyes scanned the racks like a Terminator acquiring a target. She grabbed a hanger holding a short, glittery dress. "Acquired."

She immediately began pulling down the zipper of her hoodie right in the middle of the aisle.

"Stop! Stop!" Freddie grabbed her hands. "What is wrong with you?"

"I am equipping the item," she said, confused.

"You can't do that here! People are watching!" Freddie pointed to a row of doors in the back. "You have to go to the Changing Rooms. It's a private booth."
Selena frowned. "Your world has so many rules. It's weird. Why is everything so complicated?"

"Just go in there, put the clothes on, and come out so I can see if they fit."
Selena grabbed an armful of clothes-skirts, tops, dresses-and marched into the stall. Freddie leaned against a pillar, wiping sweat from his forehead. Finally, a moment of peace.

"Freddie?" Selena called out from behind the door.

"Yeah? Does it fit?"

"I require a visual assessment."

"Okay, come on out."

The door swung open.

Freddie didn't faint, but his knees definitely buckled.

Selena hopped out. She wasn't wearing the dress. She wasn't wearing the skirt. She was wearing a matching set of lacy purple lingerie-a push-up bra and a thong-and absolutely nothing else. She struck a pose, hands on her hips.

"This under-armor offers minimal defense," she critiqued, spinning around, "but the mobility is excellent. What do you think?"

The store went silent. A mother covered her child's eyes. A male mannequin seemed to blush.

Freddie grabbed a random scarf from a nearby rack and threw it over her face, shoving her back into the stall. "PUT THE DRESS ON! PUT THE DRESS ON!"

Thirty minutes later, they stood at the checkout counter. Selena was finally wearing socially acceptable clothing: a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt. She looked normal. Beautiful, but normal.

The cashier scanned the tags. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be two hundred and forty dollars," the cashier said, popping her gum.

Freddie stared at the number on the screen. He looked at his wallet. He looked at Selena, who was trying to eat a complimentary mint with the wrapper still on.

He sighed, handing over his debit card. He mentally calculated his budget for the rest of the month.

"Welp," Freddie muttered as the receipt printed. "Looks like only ramen and no new video games for me this month."