Socks… Socks, socks, socks. Always the— “Honey, could you get me a pair of socks?” Would I suffocate if I shoved one into my mouth? Probably not.
I’d started to hate Adam a little just because I hated his socks. I grabbed two, clenched my fist around them. One had a grey stain that wouldn’t come off and the other a hole on the heel. Always the once-had-been white socks. Couldn’t he at least buy something with colour?
I’m on my bloody way! I rounded the corner and ran smack bang into—a naked Adam dressed in colourful socks.