HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 0412 · LEFT FOOT
Navy, grey heel. Small hole near the toe that it was ashamed of. Last seen entering the dryer on a Tuesday. If found, do not mention the hole.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 0957 · RIGHT FOOT
Stripes, red-yellow-green, going round. A birthday sock. Last seen at a sleepover in 2009. The left one has been waiting in a drawer for seventeen years and says it isn't angry.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 1003 · LEFT FOOT
White, two blue bands. Indistinguishable from forty other socks, which is the tragedy of it. Last seen in a gym bag. Registered by its owner "for completeness."
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 1101 · LEFT FOOT
Green, with a small duck. A gift from a grandmother. Last seen on a train platform, on a foot, which then got on the train without it somehow. We have questions about this one.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 1166 · FOOT UNKNOWN
Purple, yellow dots. Its owner cannot say which foot it was for and feels bad about it. Last seen behind the radiator, possibly still there, possibly gone further in.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SOCK?
Registry No. 1184 · RIGHT FOOT
Pale yellow, very small. Last seen on the park railing by the pond, where somebody who found it had put it up so it could be seen. That's the best of people. We registered it anyway in case the owner looks here.
These are our data, from our registry, and they are only as good as the people who tell us about socks. A nice lady from an institute looked them over and said the 61% was "suggestive." Pat has had that printed on a mug.
There is a gap between the drum and the door seal. Small things go in. I have seen a sock halfway in, like a tongue. I have no further evidence and I need none. The dryer knows what it did.
They aren't lost. They go. One of a pair always wants to see a bit more of the world than the other. You can't keep a sock that wants to leave. All you can do is keep a record, and leave the drawer open.
A man at the Complaints Dept. registered three socks with us and filed a complaint about each. All three were found in the same pillowcase. He filed a complaint about the pillowcase. We consider the case closed and the pillowcase guilty.
The person who keeps the night journal says there is a sock-shaped nothing near the stickers on the homepage, some nights. We are monitoring.
Lost one? Sign the book below with: which foot (left, right, or unknown — no shame), what it looks like, and where you last saw it. Found one? Tell us that too. We read every entry. Desmond reads them out loud to the dryer.
Happy endings: the Reunions page.