I'm A Florent Fox, Listen Carefully

B&W Door 19

         The whirring, the chugging, the gurgling, the sloshing, the swish-swishing and the rumble-thump-thumping lulled me into a stupor. It was far too busy, too noisy for me to drift off to sleep. Why would I attempt that anyway at a laundromat? I inhaled the clean scents of detergent, bleach and fabric softener, a bouquet that swirled on the humid air.

         Something, rubbed against my cheek and I batted it away. That same soft, warm something patted my bare arm and tickled my nose. I sneezed and awoke with a jerk of my head. Had I nodded off? Why was it so quiet? Well, not entirely silent, but subdued, hushed. I thought I could make out whispering. Had the lights gone out, or had there been a power outage? My eyes strained to see in the dimness.

         Objects considerably smaller than my bulk stared at me in a semi-circle. Did I say stared? I could not discern any actual orbits, or eye sockets, or even a distinguishable facial feature. Wait a minute. Were these socks? Not two were alike. Each sock appeared to be an individual. Some were ankle socks. Some seemed to be longer, knee high socks. Every colour of the rainbow was in attendance. Stripes stood next to polka dots. Cartoon characters mixed with sports team-themed socks. Their mouths and lips did not open to dispense speech because they did not exist.

         I felt, I intuited their messages. Their communications burst into my awareness vying for my undivided attention.

         As you can see we are socks, lost, forgotten, abandoned socks. Each of is a single missing their partner back in the world of laundromats, shopping excursions, car trips, school activities, job responsibilities, sports, and leisure past times. We have banded together here in the in-between. We are a rag tag collection bewildered by our fate. Why are we here? Where is here? What is our purpose? I shrugged and shook my head. I had only ever given the disappearance of one of my socks a passing reflection. Sure, at first I did puzzle as to what had happened. I did think it odd that only one sock would disappear. Where could it have gone?

         I coughed and inhaled something gritty, chewy tasting like soap and dirt at the same time. I spat it out. I then noticed mounds, towering heaps of a grey, fluffy material surrounding us.

         It's dryer lint. For some reason it was transported with us.

         "Where are we? How long have you been here?" I just had to ask.

         We have no concept of time.

         Just then I spied my old middle school soccer team sock. Had it been waiting for me to appear for the past twenty years? Ack! How could I return to my story at the laundromat? (465 words)

         

         

         

         

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