Gathering her books and glasses - essential items to start writing - C searched for her green sock, the knittend one that would keep her feet the warmest. After surverying the floor she ducked down to the under bed.
"There you are"
As always one sock had lid off in the middle of the night leaving her with one naked foot, and one warm socked foot. The way she liked it, temperature control.
Grabbing the sock, and standing up, her eyes met the porceline of the bedroom sink where the late morning light happend to be at that time.
She took a photo. She would have washed her face but somehow it felt like blasphamy.
Sock in had, she went to write.