Tree sock

overcoming fear of the blank page

Once when I was in London, I dropped my beanie somewhere near the Houses of Parliament. I was halfway across Westminster Bridge before I noticed. I was crushed. I loved that beanie. I got it in Bulgaria. It had ugly little flaps that tie under your chin. It was the one thing that kept me from dying during the cold European winters.

Anyway, I walked slowly back towards the station, keeping a look out for it. You never know, I thought, it could just be lying on the footpath somewhere. A little trampled, maybe, but still okay.

And sure enough, just outside the Tesco Express, I found my beanie. It was neatly folded and sitting on a low wall. Someone had picked up my scungy beanie and taken care of it. I love London.

I’m not sure that if I found a sock on George Street I would pick it up and tie it around a tree, but you never know.

Tree sock

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Nat Newman

Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.

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