96. Socks

Socks, socks, socks for some reason she could never find socks in her little London family loft. “Where are my stupid socks,” She thought glaring at her empty sock drawer all she could hear was the empty echo of her stupid – and rather pitchy voice.

“What are you doing?” Kyle, her little-blond cousin asked her.

“No socks, and I’m going on an interview today,” her lips wibbled slightly.

“Oh they are in the laundry.”

“I know, but I wanted nice black ones for my interview today the ministry of magic.” She complained, biting her lip.

“Take these ones” Kyle offered.

Kyle is owned by me, Jesse McFeisty