Sock

His curled nails scrape against the slabs as he charges backwards and forwards in the pursuit of a single and unclaimed Christmas sock. Backwards and forwards he goes, each time taking the sock back to a single person who in amusement, throws it into the distance before watching him closely as he darts off after it.

"Get in, the heating is on and the windows and the door is open." A voice echoes from the close by building.Climbing to her feet as the sock ends up in her possession once again. Soggy from its few minutes use she doesn't hold it too hard in the prison of a hand.

Inviting warmth hugs her, the small being taking off out of view into other company. The door closed and the windows too, the room begun to warm quickly, the cool outside was gladly welcomed in times like this.

She tosses the sock aside in front of the washer and takes a drink before straightening up her dressing gown which seemed to hold her together. It was a comfort for her,  the purple fabric was still soft but after its years on her, was worn but functioning as a comfort.

Walking through the rooms, pressing a single kiss to her earlier companions nose before leaving his company like he had hers. Climbing a hill to another comfort, a place where the minutes of sock throwing could replay in her mind, calming her, comforting her, the emotions soothing the aches both on the surface and deep within her.