Room 317, Saturday Afternoon

Z sat on her bed, barefoot with her feet tucked up, advising the Snorgs as they raced about after her socks. "Oh, there one over there, don't let it get away!" The Snorg looked crestfallen as the sock dashed under her dresser. "It's okay," she assured it. "It has to come out eventually."

((Open! Mind the Snorgs.))