Door number three

Going to the dogs

Changing into my workout clothes in the men’s locker room at the gym.

Guy walks in, sweaty, just worked out. Opens a locker. Closes it.

Opens another locker. Closes it.

And another.

Walks to another section. Walks back.

Turns to me, puzzled look on his face, “I’m 90{82b2ded5ae086bbe31c001f0374079c9503b180ae813ec027549eb44365a9474} sure I put my shirt in this locker.”

He points to the locker directly opposite mine, but one row above.

“The one with someone else’s lock on it?”

He nods.

“Are you sure it wasn’t *this* one?”, I say like a game show host as I open the locker above mine, dramatically revealing the shirt he’s looking for.

He laughs, “I said I was *90{82b2ded5ae086bbe31c001f0374079c9503b180ae813ec027549eb44365a9474}* sure! Thanks, man.”

I was as surprised to see his shirt as he was.

I mean, what are the odds?

Apparently 1 in 10. ;)

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