(miniflash story)

In a world, where socks mysteriously vanish in the laundry, Detective Lint was on the case. His office, a lint roller in a dimly lit drawer, was a mess of tangled threads and missing buttons.

One sunny morning, Mrs. Woollysock reported her husband missing. A single tearful tube sock, Mr. Woollysock, had been last seen heading into the washing machine. Detective Lint arrived at the scene, a front-loading laundromat.

The washing machine, aptly named “The Spin Master,” whirled and tumbled as Detective Lint peeked inside. “I see nothing but a soapy conspiracy,” he mumbled, squinting at the frothy water.

With a magnifying glass, he searched the laundromat’s tiny prison cells: sock-sized pockets, but no sign of Mr. Woollysock. Then, he spotted a trail of damp footprints leading to the dryer.

As he opened the dryer’s door, a gust of hot air hit him. Inside, Mr. Woollysock stood triumphant, sunglasses perched on his fabric. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” Lint said, one eyebrow arched.

Mr. Woollysock adjusted his shades. “I got tired of the daily grind, Detective. Decided to take a tumble on the wild side.”

Lint rolled his eyes. “You do realize you’ve been through the wringer, right?”

Mr. Woollysock sighed, deflated. “I guess I just needed a little adventure in my life.”

Detective Lint chuckled. “Looks like we’ve solved the case of the missing sock. But let’s avoid the spin cycle next time, shall we?”

And so, they returned to the laundry basket with Mr. Woollysock a little wiser and Detective Lint ready for the next daring laundry caper, one lint roller at a time.