Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

gray socks, a stark contrast to the icy dread settling in my chest.

The clinic waiting room was empty except for an old man reading a magazine. I did not sit down.

The receptionist looked up and smiled. “Dr. Albert is between appointments, Martha. Did you need to schedule an adjustment?”

“I need to show him something,” I said.

Dr. Albert came out of his continue reading …