The Lost Sock

Short Story Day 41 of 365

The tall thin man wearing a Stetson hat and cowboy boots picked up the black sock in the middle of the grocery store aisle. He held it for a second and stared at it.

A grocery store.

A single sock. It was new but it had already taken a beating from grocery carts and foot traffic.

He pushed his half empty car to Customer Service and gave it to the clerk. She made an announcement while he was still standing there regarding the owner of a single black sock.

It was an unusual grocery store announcement, to be sure.

Four minutes later, a woman with four toddlers in tow approached the clerk and said she was its owner, giggling as she spoke.

The clerk handed the sock to the woman without questioning her. After all, it was only a sock.

Through stifled giggles, the mother told the clerk that her husband had left the house with this sock clinging to his pant leg, both of which she had washed earlier today. She didn’t have a heart to tell him about it and wanted to see how far he would get before he noticed it. “Apparently,” she said, “He’s not very self aware.”

“Daddy,” the oldest of the toddlers asked Cowboy, “What does self aware mean?”

“It means your mom’s having a little fun today, Son.”