MISMATCHED SOCKS

Jasmine was getting tired of waiting, but the dryer still had thirty minutes left and there was no way she was leaving her clothes alone in the laundromat this late when sticky fingers Fred was perched outside on the corner.

The laundromat was empty aside from Jasmine and a few forgotten socks strewn about. The floor was speckled with lint, and the air was thick enough to make her cough.

Beside her, her phone rang loudly, making her jump.

“Have you been taking your meds?” her mom asked through the phone. It was how she always started a call, never bothering with hellos.

“Yes, mom, every morning,” Jasmine lied. “I’ve been doing great lately, and honestly, I think I’m good to come off–”

“Why can I hear a dryer? I thought I told you to stop going to the laundromat. You and your uncle never listen,” her mom chided her. “That place is why he thinks he’s schizophrenic.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Uncle Nash is schizophrenic.”

“He wasn’t before he stepped out of that laundromat.” Her mom huffed, and Jasmine could feel her hot breath through the phone. “Always talking about damn socks with googly eyes and shit. I told him to quit bringing that nonsense ‘round me. If he would’ve just listened to the doctor and took his meds, he’d have been fine.”

“Well, I have yet to see any googly eyed socks, so I think I’m safe.”

“For now,” her mom said.

Jasmine smiled at her mother’s ridiculousness. She was always one for dramatics and everyone in the family thought that trait would be passed on to Jasmine. Imagine everyone’s surprise when she proved to be the most level-headed in the family. Her aunts said it was God taking pity on them, her mom said it was the devil robbing her of a good time.

“I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open,” Jasmine said, hoping to provide some reassurance.

“Be sure to visit your grandmother in the hospital sometime, too,” her mom said. “She had a spell last night, said she saw someone in her kitchen. Her nurse thinks her brain’s giving out.”

“Isn’t that the case for all of us?” Jasmine asked. “Maybe she’d be better off her meds too, like Uncle Nash.”

“Don’t even talk like that, Jasmine,” her mother scolded. “The medicine’s what keeps us sane, that’s why your uncle thinks he’s off the deep end. You don’t want to be like him, do you?”

The sound of metal scraping against the floor startled her.

“I’ll have to call you back, I think someone else is here.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she ended the call.

Her eyes dart around the room, trying to find the source of the noise, but nothing seemed out of place. Get out of your head, Jas. Everything’s fine. She looked up at her dryer and groaned. Twenty more minutes before she could leave. Twenty more minutes of fighting her own thoughtless delusions.

“One sock here, one sock there, mismatched socks–everywhere!”

Her back straightened and her palms grew damp. There was no one else in the building, no one she could see at least.

“One sock here, one sock there, mismatched socks–everywhere!”

The voice was high-pitched, almost childlike with its bubbly tune. Jasmine wasn’t a fan. Her fingers tightened around the wooden bench she was sitting on, not wanting whatever was singing to hear her too.

“One sock here, one sock there, mismatched socks–everywhere!”

In the corner of her eye, she saw something. It was small, barely four inches off the ground, with twine-like arms and legs. It was dirty and covered in dust, almost like it crawled straight from the stuffy vents that made it uncomfortable to breathe. She turned her head slightly, hoping to get a better look at the thing.

Holy shit.

“One sock here, one sock there, mismatched socks–everywhere!”

It was a sock. She could only see the back, but the twine arms and legs were moving choppily as it reached down to grab one of the many discarded socks lying on the ground. It hummed as it tugged the ankle portion into its hands and started whistling when it dragged the lifeless sock across the dirty tiled floor.

She waits for it to get farther from her before moving from her spot on the bench, not fully believing the reality of her situation. Lowering herself to the ground, Jasmine crawled behind the sock, wondering what it fully looked like and where it was going.

The sock approached a rusted vent on the ground before dropping the lifeless sock and moving the vent cover out of the way. It grunted under the weight but pulled it off with a pop. She watched as it pushed the lifeless sock into the vent before following it in. When the vent closed back, Jasmine was rushing towards it, desperate to see what was hiding underneath.

She hovered over the vent, peeking inside to see if she could see anything. It wasn’t close enough. Taking a deep breath, she slipped her fingers through the slits of the vent and pulled.

Huh, she thought. Guess I should be taking my meds.

Hiding inside the vent were mismatched socks covered in dust and sitting on old dryer sheets. Every single one had matching sets of googly eyes.

Tayelor Spears’ roots are buried deep within the beaches of north Florida. When she’s not writing, she can be found outside walking, running, or just enjoying the fresh air.