As I pegged out the wash this afternoon, I noticed once again the mystery of socks. I swear I put them in as pairs, but the line insists on odd numbers. Today one striped fellow dangled proudly, its twin nowhere to be seen.

The breeze tugged at it as if laughing at the joke. Perhaps socks simply tire of loyalty and wander off to new adventures.

A dress sleeve brushed against it, almost companionably, and I thought — maybe that’s enough, to be paired with whatever comes your way.