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A knock at the door came just as I was cleaning up from putting down another layer on my next piece.
"Wally? It's Frank. You asked for more information on Danaus plexippus, right? Monarch butterfly?"
'Home, would you be a dear and let 'im in? Still gotta dry my hands.' With a light /creak/, Frank was granted entry.
I thanked my lovely Home and closed the door once Frank was in. He slid his shoes off on the mat, revealing a butterfly sewn into the toe of each sock and a very pleased Frank Frankly.
'Those new?'
"Well, newly-decorated, yeah. Somehow Eddie and I were doing laundry at the same time on the same day and a pair of socks from each of us ended up in the other's basket. Somehow. When I went to drop his off at the post office the next morning, he handed me mine with 'some additions,' he called it. Sensory nightmare, but seeing a butterfly on each foot every time I look down is more than worth it. I gotta give him somethin' back one of these days..."
'How'dya know they weren't your socks, then? When you took them out of the drier, I mean?'
"His socks are always white, mine are always red."