I know where all the missing socks go. Or should I say that they are stolen rather than missing? Forgive this old man, for I know that my mind is already drifting little by little, so I may not make complete sense. But if you bear with me, I would like to tell you about them. The ones who steal our socks, hide our pencils in the middle of homework, or misplace our car keys when we’re late for work. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. After my wife Emily passed away three years ago, I kept losing everything and I thought it was because my depression caused my mind to drift off. But then my things weren’t the only ones missing, my Emily’s stuff started to disappear as well. And so, I thought, perhaps it is her? Perhaps her spirit is still here with me? When I began to pay closer attention that’s when I first met Mike, roaming through my drawers without a care in the world. It was a funny looking thing. Six inches tall, with pale bluish skin, big doe eyes and floppy ears so long that it stumbled upon them as it moved. His head three times the size of his body and to top it all off, he had cut wholes in my sock and was now using it as a sweater. I was perplexed to say the least, and yet it didn’t frighten me. In fact, the one who got scared was him, for he gave a high-pitched squeal before disappearing into thin air once he noticed me. Some time passed before I saw him again, but that time he was not alone. He brought his family… or who I assumed his family to be — mind you, they don’t speak. All of them were wearing either my socks or Emily’s. Slowly I started to learn their ways. They love sweets, so if you could leave some sugar cubes for them, they will greatly appreciate it and might even return a stolen trinket to you. I’ve also came to notice these strange looking creatures are also surprisingly noble. Whenever I was feeling under the weather, they would take something from me so that I would have to find it and stop overthinking. When my grandchildren came over during summer and cried over their homework, they would hide their pencils for them to take a break. Needless to say, these creatures became my friends. Perhaps you might think these are just the delusions of a senile old man. I wish I could explain things to you in a way that made sense, but truth be told I don’t know how or why I could suddenly see these creatures. I don’t even know what they really are. But what I do know is that my Emily must have done it. For not only did I find my missing socks, but I also found the company I desperately yearned for.