by Adam Armour
There was a moment there when they just looked at each other in drawn silence. Ash, hand still on the door, and Renee, hand up one of Ash's missing socks, her palm open so that the little face she had drawn on the dirty white cotton looked as shocked as the both were. Ash thought to herself, What are you doing, Renee, and So that's where my socks have been going, and I shouldn't have come home early, but she didn't say any of this. Her roommate tried to explain: “It's just something I like to do. I only took the ones that looked dirty; that you were probably going to throw away anyway.” Ash just nodded, told Renee it was “OK” and slowly stepped back through the door into the apartment complex's third floor hallway, certain that one of them had done something to make the other feel awkward, but not sure who.
Adam Armour's work — including news reporting, feature story writing and photography — has earned seven Mississippi Press Association awards, including three "Best of" category recognitions.