two gray socks

i was sitting across from him watching him talk about work. he got fired again. it was his third job in four weeks. i’ve already ran out of things to say so i just kept nodding and looking out the window.

"but it’s ok," he said. "i've got a job interview this afternoon. i have my clothes ready."

i got up from the couch and walked into his room. i saw his clothes neatly arranged on his bed. everything looked normal, except for the socks. there was something so wrong about those socks. two gray socks had their own pile away from the rest of his clothes.

i thought they were the saddest things i’ve ever seen. they’ve got to be... two worn out, fringy socks one on top of the other, stretched, sleeping, undaunted. they looked as if they’ve carrying all the weight in his heart. i felt my own heart getting heavy, and i couldn’t stop my eyes from watering. i knew there was nothing i could do anymore. i hated those damned socks for reminding me that it was beyond my control.

"i’m going to do some errands first," he said hinting i should leave.

i pried my eyes away from his room and looked up at his big troubled eyes, "yes, i’ll leave now."
i wanted to say something more, probably about his socks, but i had no words. i looked down and saw his bare feet. no socks there, i thought. he’s going to an interview. he’ll wear the socks then.

right.

"call me," i said.
"sure," he said.

i turned around and walked towards the door. "i love you," i heard him call out. "yeah, i love you too," i said it so softly as if i didn’t want him to hear.