A glum sort of atmosphere always pervaded the single socks support group as they took their places in the circle. These were the socks without partners, and many partners had been lost to the mysterious whirling of the washing machine, never to be seen again. It was a phenomenon known even to humans, who were notoriously unaware of the fate of their socks, most of the time, that is.
A few more socks had been lost to humans’ pets, chewed on by dogs, or batted one too many times by cats.
There were the socks that were simply there because there was no one else left of their same kind. Maybe they were a brightly-colored fluorescent sock, or a fluffy sock, or a striped sock, or a sock with toes. Sometimes a similar sock would show up, but even so, they were not exactly alike.
Week after week, the socks shared their stories until they almost grew tired of each other and of being in the situation they were in.
There was another group of socks had been worn to the point that they were simply worn out by the job, careworn with fulfilling the purpose of life. These were the “holy” socks, the ones that all working socks hoped went to “a better place” and achieved a sainthood, of sorts.
Yet they all knew that in the reality of things, their present existence was all they had, this was life, and there wasn’t anything beyond it. These enlightened socks tried to do good things and make their time in the terrestrial sock drawer pleasant for themselves, other socks, and those whose feet they encased.
Eventually, the melancholia and desperation, the unending search for purpose of the single socks, would wear itself out, and all would finally discover the great truths of the universe: that they were there to help each other, and get along, that it doesn’t really matter what another sock looks like on the outside. All socks were made for the same purpose and it only matters what they were like in the deepest threads and yarns that made them up, and they all existed to make the best of the here and now because it is all any sock has.
And it is with this discovery that the socks at last found real hope. They were able to cope with their “oneness,” and sometimes even found peace in the companionship of another sock partner, no matter how different on the outside that sock seemed.
Maybe the humans could learn something from the lowly socks on their feet. After all, the fibers of their existence were not too different from the socks’.