Arnie rose from his bed. His mother and father always insisted on calling him Arnold, but he preferred Arnie. He stretched. It was one of those luxurious stretches that goes on for longer than is entirely necessary, but which is immensely satisfying. He let out a sort of growling noise to accompany it. He was a tall, skinny chap with jet black messy hair, and he had pale skin – giving him the appearance of a man out of touch with the sun. Upon his nose he wore square-rimmed glasses, thinking these gave him the look of a scientist. Some people said he looked like Harry Potter but he didn't like that comparison. He reasoned that because he was born before Harry Potter was published, one should say Harry Potter looks like him.

He went into the bathroom and glanced at himself in the mirror. His jet black hair looked like it was attempting to travel in all directions without pattern. He brushed his teeth, the cold water running into the enamel sink, as he thought about the day ahead.

He loved all things scientific. In fact, he had planned a trip to the local science centre that day to read up on quantum physics – his favourite subject of study. His ambition was to travel to an alternate universe and show the world that not only did these places exist but they could be reached. He wanted to be a famous scientist who would change the face of the planet. Someone like Einstein or Newton.

Now only 21 years old he had already won several science competitions. First for inventing a new form of alarm clock. It woke you up to the smell of buttered toast. The simple mechanism worked by toasting bread and buttering it for you before a robotic arm took the toast and held it close to your face. It came with the bonus of breakfast in bed. He also won a high school science competition by developing a new method for filtering water on the move.

His main interest, however, lay in the unexplained phenomena of the world. Strange disappearances, parallel worlds and the shape of time and space.

He finished brushing his teeth and looked around as he went back into his room. The room was immaculate, the white walls and ceiling were clean and free of dust or cobwebs, the bed, though unmade for now, stood centred in the room. His wooden chest of drawers lined up against the bedroom wall, each drawer closed. There was nothing on the floor. His mustard carpet was spotless, and the wardrobe, set into the wall, had its doors closed. His walls were sparse with only a single map of the world hanging centred above his bed.

He opened the door to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of trousers. They were navy blue dress trousers with a matching belt already through the buckles. He pulled them on but left the belt undone while he rummaged through his clothes hangers until he found the shirt he was looking for; it was emerald green and long-sleeved. He took it from the hanger and put it on buttoning it up but leaving the top button open. He tucked it in and then buckled the belt.

He sat on the edge of his bed next to the chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. After rummaging around for a moment, he found the socks he was looking for, emerald green to match his shirt. He also had an eccentric streak and liked to stand out as different from the norm when it came to fashion. He pulled the socks from the drawer and unrolled them. To his annoyance only one sock unrolled. He looked in the drawer again but the partner sock was nowhere to be seen. He let out an exclamation of frustration and annoyance and rummaged through the other drawers in search of the missing sock. It couldn't be lost, it was a distinct colour and different from the others. He had made a point of getting very different colours of socks once he noticed the phenomenon of socks going missing for the first time. He had assumed, as most people do, that they got mixed up with other pairs.

After several minutes of fruitless searching through the drawers he gave it up as a lost job and took a different pair of socks - plain black this time - and he put them on, albeit in a somewhat disgruntled way. It was at that point, feeling irritated at the loss, he decided to use his considerable skill in science and his intelligence to uncover the mystery of his lost socks. A decision that would have far-reaching consequences beyond anything he could imagine.

This was not the first time he had lost socks, but it was the last time he was willing to tolerate it.

He pulled on his shoes, set his glasses upon his nose and with a new determination in his mind, he left the room.

When he arrived at the science centre, it was almost 9am. With a starbucks cup in hand, containing a plain black filter coffee, Arnie admired the outside of the imposing structure.

The building stood out, a mishmash of different architectural styles. Greek Columns, stained glass windows and a modern, glass fronted doorway. It made an impression on the bustling street, contrasting with the Georgian surrounds. He knew the building well, having come here hundreds of times over the years. He loved it - and he always seemed to find out new things every time he came. He stepped forward, cup in hand and left the street behind as he entered through the automatic doors.

Please remember to vote if you like it! Let me know your thoughts so far by commenting too!