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

the thin carpet. On his screen was a detailed map of our neighborhood, with my own property line on Elm Street blinking in bright yellow.

“Greg,” I said.

He jumped, his hand jerking the mouse sideways. He cleared his throat before turning his head to look at me, his face pale under the fluorescent light.

A blue box in the corner of his continue reading …