She frowned at him as he came into the room.
“I think I smell something,” he said.
“Someone did a poo in my diaper,” she said unhappily.
He raised his eyebrows. “Someone?”
“Yes.” She look slightly shocked that this had happened, perhaps a little upset.
“Who might have done that?” he asked. “It couldn’t be the person wearing it could it?”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, “I’m 20 years old, why would I do that?”
He smiled indulgently at her, took her hand and led her gently from the room. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “Lets get you out of it anyway.”
The walk to the changing room was quiet, just the crinkle and squelch of a well used diaper, her face silent with bewilderment, his professionally neutral, hiding his inner thoughts.
A few minutes later she wandered into the common room, smelling clean and fresh, pristine padding obvious in her walk.
The orderly watched from the doorway, turned to his shift partner. “She’s so cute when she waddles like that,” he said, “But even more when the diaper’s full.”
His colleague grinned back. “Well, give her a couple of hours to avoid suspicion,” he suggested, “Then it’s your turn.”
The orderly sighed happily. “I do love the ones with short term memory loss.”