Winner, 2026 Contest for Flash CNF
The visitation room at Highland Springs is packed by the time I arrive. I misjudged traffic, already busy for a Monday afternoon, which cost me ten minutes. Another ten minutes for sign-in, security wanding, the inspection of my plastic bag full of clothes, the wait for a staff escort. By the time I meet up with my son, one-third of visitation hour is gone.
His hands are jammed deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. His eyes dart around the room, uncomfortable with the amount of people who have already claimed their space in the room. I find a pair of chairs wedged between two other family groups. On the left, parents tell their disheveled son how well he’s holding up. On the right, an adult daughter pleads with her weeping, elderly mother to get her out.
I hand my son the bag of socks, underwear, and sweatshirt he asked for. It’s too cold in the hallways, he says.
We speak careful words about safe topics, until the staff observer says our time is up. Everyone stands; we do too. I reach out my arms for a hug; my son gives me half. Best efforts.
Can you come back tomorrow? he asks.
No, I can’t, I say. Late meetings at work.
Wednesday?
Yes, Wednesday afternoon.
Right at four? he asks.
Four o’clock, I answer.
Will you bring another pair of socks?
Yes, I say to him.
A thousand pairs, I say to myself. Every sock in the world.
Joe Kapitan writes fiction and creative nonfiction from a pine grove south of Cleveland. He is the author of a chapbook, a short story collection, and work featured in Best Small Fictions and Best Microfiction. Joe is a 2026 recipient of an Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award grant, and serves as an assistant nonfiction editor at Pithead Chapel.
Image Credit: Flickr Creative Commons/Gustavo Vieira
