👚 Six Sentence Story
Where is my underwear? Folded neat and clean only a moment ago, gone like the unmatched socks lost in the great beyond. The brassiere and shirt and even the socks are present, along with the pants but the bloomers have disappeared. I decide not to call for bloomer back-up, instead I find a spare to wear, dress and reach for my shoes. fingers brush against familiar lace and Lycra and I smile, feeling less like a doddering fool. Now, I wonder, how did the darn undies get over there?