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

waiting for the familiar grip of pain, but my legs remained loose and quiet.

When I opened my eyes again, the pale morning light was filtering through the lace curtains. I looked at the small clock on my nightstand. It was four minutes past four.

I had slept six hours without waking once. I slid my feet out from under the quilt, the gray socks still continue reading …