The professor wore the required shirt and shoes. He expected service.
Yes, his pants were missing. So were his underpants, his socks and his wife of 38 years, if anyone cared for details.
The girl behind the counter gaped at him, her mouth a perfect O. The professor set down a bottle. “It’s all in your imagination,” he told her. True enough. What could she see beyond the counter-top? A man in bifocals and a wrinkled shirt. “Let’s get on with it.” He pulled a bill from his shirt pocket, and unfurled it beside the register.
She rang him up.
I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #336 at Velvet Verbosity.