She often made a joke about the last gift her grandmother sent, a single pair of red socks with a row of embroidered polar bears. She wore the socks, and when anyone remarked on them, she would say, those were the last present my grandmother gave before her passing.
She never would seriously say "passing." Her grandmother hadn't driven in years and likely wouldn't utilize the HOV lane, but June imagined the woman in a dirty red sedan, flipping the bird as she tore around a school bus and howling at the idea that a pair of socks could make so many people feel like shit. - Amelia Gray "Death of a Beast" from Museum of the Weird (book #1 of my 32 Books For My 32nd Year challenge)