All I'm going to say about this one is that it's about the importance of an active socks life. (I'm making up for the bad pun I had to sacrifice last time.)
Lefty Turquoise (784 words)
My socks have wriggled off my feet in the night again. One has escaped all the way to the end of the bed, the toe poking out beyond the duvet, a vibrant turquoise against the dark red cotton.
"Where the hell is my other sock?" I throw back the duvet cover impatiently. The troublesome pair in question are thick and knee-length and going a bit slack in the elastic.
"Maybe it just hopped off on a little socky escapade," says David, knotting his tie. "Look for it later. You'd better get up or you'll be late for work again."
"Wouldn't that be a tragedy?"
David plants a kiss on my cheek and scoops up his bag on his way out. A few minutes later the front door slams.
Perhaps David is right. Perhaps the sock in the bed, I'll call it Righty, is happy slumbering in the second drawer down in the chest, or sometimes fulfilling its purpose by keeping my foot warm at night. Perhaps Lefty has become bored with the pointless routine, the days that trundle by, with only the occasional outing to the space under the duvet. Lefty is longing for adventure. They are ski socks, after all, and I haven't been skiing in years. I can see Righty reaching out of the bed after Lefty as he wriggled away, calling out, "Come back you fool!" Or maybe, "Take me with you!"
I join the ant file of commuters on the trail to the station, and I am nearly there when I escape from my thoughts and see that it is a beautiful day, even in suburbia. It's one of those free-gift April days, wrapped up in shiny green and blue and hot enough to make my jacket burdensome. It is a day for icecream, and sea breezes. As I step onto the London-bound platform, a flash of turquoise catches my eye, disappearing down the tunnel that leads to the south-bound trains.
I bolt after it, hope swelling up inside me. I can see nothing in the tunnel, so I run on, up the stairs to the other side, just as a train pulls up. The train is going to Brighton. After a second's hesitation, so am I. If I'm seeing blue flashes it means another migraine on the way, so no point in going to work anyway.
When the guard comes by, I tell him I jumped on the train on a whim.
"Good for you love," he says in a bored voice. But he sells me my ticket without a penalty.
I am right. It is a day for icecream. It is a day for buying a dress and changing in the shop, for taking my discarded suit to the pebble beach and jumping on it. For letting salt wind tangle my hair, for catching the sun across my nose and cheeks, for paddling in icy water. There is something turquoise floating out in the sea, but I am squinting into the sun, and it's too far out to wade and look. Instead I dig myself a comfortable hollow in the sun-warmed pebbles and watch the clouds float by and I wonder what the hell I've been doing with the rest of my days.
I don't go home until it's dark. I have to reluctantly reclaim my suit jacket because it's getting cold.
"Where've you been?" says David, hugging me. "Are you ok?"
"I had a day off. If my sock can have an adventure, I don't see why I can't."
"Cup of tea? You can tell me all about it."
I follow him into the kitchen. He puts the kettle on and rattles around with cups and spoons.
"I found your sock, by the way," says David. "It was outside the front door. It must have got tangled up with my bag."
"Was it wet? Sandy?"
"It was lying in a puddle. I've put it through the wash. Are you sure you're ok?"
"Just the same as usual. Unfortunately."
The next morning on the train to the office, I think over my day off. A little holiday from sanity, perhaps. It scares me how much I want to believe that Lefty was out there with me. I find myself thinking of buying teddy bear eyes and stitching them on, making him into a sock puppet. Or buying more wool, unravelling and reknitting him into a scarf so I could take him out and about. I finally decide that I'll leave Lefty exactly as he is. But I'll leave the sock drawer open, and the topmost window in the bedroom. And I'll keep my eyes peeled for what might happen next, for any free gift that comes my way.
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