The Sock With the Strawberry
There's a kid's sock on the folding table that isn't mine. The place has been empty the whole hour.
I do my laundry at 2am because the machines are free and nobody talks to you. Tonight there was a sock on the folding table that wasn't mine. small. a kid's, with a strawberry stitched on the ankle.
I figured someone left it and I'd just set it aside. but the place was empty. has been empty the whole hour. the TV bolted up in the corner played an infomercial with no sound, a man smiling at a blender.
I matched my own pile, paired everything, and the strawberry sock was still there. waiting for its other half. so i started watching the door. nobody came. the dryers kept turning, warm and low, like the building was breathing slow.
When I folded my last shirt there was a partner next to it. same strawberry. i didn't put it there.
I left them on the table for whoever they belong to. walking to my car I realized i used to have socks like that. when i was small enough to need them. i'd forgotten that until just now.
Did this one stay with you?
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