In the tenement at 8 Ginger Street, in the flat at number four, life went on to the sound of coffee pouring through the filter and laughter echoing through the old walls. This was where four not entirely serious housemates lived: Daria, a philosophy student and master of sarcasm; Tom, an IT specialist in all things flickering; Basia, an aspiring artist with an inseparable cup of tea and a sense of humour as sharp as her linocuts; and Andrew, an undying lover of old films and fresh jokes. One dreary, rainy evening, when everyone was holed up in the living room with mugs (not necessarily of tea) in their hands and complaining about the world, Andrew suddenly sprang up from the sofa. "Listen, this stops being funny! My sock is still missing! The one with Batman, you know, my favourite!" Basia burst out laughing. "Maybe the bat flew off?" Tom chuckled with feigned seriousness: "This is no joke, paranormal things happen here. Socks don't die for no reason. It could be the work of the Cat Conspiracy." Daria looked up from her book at them. "Or maybe it's time to declare a state of emergency and launch an investigation? Maybe we should even call in... a special task specialist." There was a moment of silence, then they all looked at each other with communicative smiles. Andrew stood up and reached for a torch from a drawer. "I am officially announcing: Operation Lost Sock is launched! Everyone grab a torch, a notepad and put on your slippers. Are you all ready?" Within five minutes, the living room had turned into a base of operations. A map of the flat was drawn out on the back of an old receipt, and Daria assigned everyone a sector to search. Basia's room - full of paint and artistic chaos, the kitchen with its suspiciously quiet coffee machine, Thomas's office resembling a NASA command centre, and the bathroom, where Richard's cat was reportedly once seen wrestling with a bottle of shampoo. The atmosphere thickened when Basia walked into her room and found footprints of suspiciously green glitter on the floor. "Hey, did any of you buy yourself new polish?" At the same time, Tom's shout came from the kitchen: "Er... we have a problem! Someone left a jam jar open and now there's... something sitting on the shelf." A shadow appeared in the corridor. Something shone between the bathroom door and the living room. Andrew lowered his voice. "Is it possible that... the sock is living a life of its own?" There was a tense silence. Could the sock really have slipped out of this world? Did the house hide other secrets? The answers were hiding just around the corner - the moment all four of them came face to face with the most unexpected discovery of the missing sock....