Janine’s thighs stuck uncomfortably to the cheap vinyl seats, but she smiled anyway. This was Tony’s day. He’d finally got a job in the sock factory, despite his priors. “Socks,” he’d said. “I never even wear socks, but I’m damn well gonna start.” Janine had said she would start too. She wore socks that reached up to her knees. Tony put his hand on her knee and fingered the plaid cotton. “Now those are some fine socks!” he exclaimed. Janine smiled. It was good to see Tony happy. Sweat formed between Janine’s legs and slid beneath her socks, pooling at her feet. She ignored her discomfort and watched the mirages cast by the heat—years ahead of them. “Yeah,” she agreed. “These are damn fine socks.”
