Fuzzy Socks

A simple short, written in 30 minutes, that covers a 10 minute period of time. Prompted by: Fuzzy Socks, Crayons, and Pocket Watch.

Despite it being March it was cold, so cold in fact it was snowing out. Big fat lazy snowflakes cascaded down behind Frank’s window. In side he sat before his desk, laptop screen gone blank as it sat for too long without him touching it, with his fingers curled around a slowly cooling mug of coffee. All he wore was a tank top, sweats, and fuzzy socks. As long as his feet and hands were warm the rest didn’t seem to matter too much.

Two years living in England and this was definitely the coldest winter he had seen. He set the mug aside and glanced at his watch which hung from an ornate stand on the right side of his desk. 9:23, Saturday the 3^rd, 2007. He could hear his wife downstairs and his son across the hall. He smiled as he wondered what his Eric might be drawing, not if he was drawing, but what.

Pulling his thought back to himself and away from everything else he grumbled a bit and checked the time again, even though immediately after setting eyes on the slowly ticking hands he recalled that he had just glanced at it and already knew what time it was. “Hey babe,” he called out loud enough to be heard downstairs, “I’m going to go in to work for a bit. I need to finish up the performance report I was telling you about.” A sigh escaped his lips just thinking about writing the damned thing.

Before he even heard the faint acknowledgement from downstairs he was already putting on a shirt and boots, “f**k getting in uniform though. It’s the damn weekend.” The mumble was thoughtlessly quiet, as he was a practiced father, just so Eric wouldn’t hear his language. As he finished tying his boots he wiggled his still snuggly clad toes in comfort then slowly stood and stretched at the same time. By the time he was headed downstairs it was just past nine thirty.

Keys and wallet were sitting side by side in the entry way. Frank smiled at that because he knew they hadn’t been there minutes earlier. He walked swiftly through the house, looking for his wife. He didn’t have to search long as she was curled up on a recliner reading a magazine. He swooped down for a quick kiss, “I’ll be back just after noon, so if you want to wait we can all eat together.”

Lisa looked up with a smile, “okay. It won’t be anything special since we’re having that big dinner at John’s.”

Frank leaned down again for another quick kiss. Before turning, grabbing his things, and walking out the door.