A pause.
Then another.
"WHAT ON EARTH??"
He was putting the socks on.
I didn't move.
Behind me, something scraped against the floor.
Captain Compost shot upright.
"What is this?"
The teenage girl made a strange squeaking noise.
Behind me, something scraped against the floor.
Her mother handed her a napkin.
Not one of mine.
A clean one.
Then came the shout.
"WHO DID THIS?!"
Several passengers turned around.
"WHO DID THIS?!"
I slowly looked over my shoulder.
Captain Compost was standing in the aisle, his face bright red.
Both socks were on his feet.
As he'd pulled the socks on, the two clear pouches had slipped upward.
The white notes inside now stuck out above his ankles like luggage tags.
Both socks were on his feet.
He pulled the first one free.
Then the second.
He stared at them.
