“How are my socks doing?”

You know how sometimes you go to Germany, meet a local on Tinder, go to a birthday party in a skate park with them because they are nice enough to invite an Estonian creep (and you’re a reckless piece of shit), get a little carried away and find yourself at their place at 7am, realizing you have to check out of your hotel in 4 hours and you haven’t slept yet? You then check out of your hotel (twice – the first time you forget your key because you’re a fucking idiot) looking like two zombies who have been up partying the entire night, debating whether or not you should steal something from the breakfast buffet. After then sleeping at their place for roughly 4-5 hours, you start looking for a new pair of socks in you enormous backpack that holds a week of your clothes, but could easily provide for a god damn month, but cannot find any socks, because your enormous backpack holds a week of your clothes, but could easily provide for a god damn month. The local naturally then offers you his socks and your brain immediately goes

But no, you’re not a free elf actually, the guy just happens to have 63 pairs (yes, he counted) of socks and would happily get rid of some, thus you end up going back to Estonia wearing the socks of a random German guy you met on Tinder a few days ago. Sounds familiar? You still with me?

And then comes the day when you’re asked the dreaded question –

But replying “Oh, they’re fine.” seems a little underexaggerated (for your sassy ass), so here is a short illustrated story of two German socks that made their way into the home of a not-so-regular Estonian and started a new and exciting life in the cold land next to Narnia.

At mornings they like to chill out with a cup of nice black coffee, looking into the distance from the balcony even though there is no view in this apartment (but they’re socks, so I think they don’t really get it…).