The sock sits quietly in the corner, unassuming and patient. It’s often discovered after checkout, hiding behind the couch or crumpled at the foot of the bed.
Hosts wonder, What’s your story, little sock? Were you the victim of a hasty packing job?
Did you escape from a suitcase in search of freedom?
Were you abandoned, cast aside by a traveler who had grown tired of your company?
As hosts, we see that some socks seem to carry the sadness of a breakup, separated forever from their better half. Others sit smugly, as if to say, I belong here now. This is my Airbnb, and you’re just living in it.
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