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

from my thick gray socks was a constant, comforting weight.

The sun set early, leaving the sky a deep, bruised purple before five o’clock. By nine, the wind had picked up, rattling the storm windows slightly, but the draft did not reach my bed.

I sat on the edge of my mattress, the sheets smelling of lavender and fresh laundry. I reached into my dresser continue reading …