Margo’s craft studio reeked of glue and existential dread. She’d spent three weeks stitching a quilt made entirely of vintage socks, only to return from lunch and find her stash stolen. “Who steals socks?” she wailed, kicking a rogue yarn ball. It ricocheted off Mr. Pudelwick’s model train diorama—his pride and joy, which he’d once called “a masterpiece of miniature tranquility.”\n\n”You’ve ruined my 1940s coal town!” he yelled, peering over his fence. Margo squinted. “That’s a toaster oven.”\n\nUndeterred, she raided her pantry. Canned peas? Perfect. Pasta? Why not. She sewed a sock quilt using spaghetti strands as thread, then glued cereal boxes to create a quilted mural of a dancing banana. At the town fair, judges gaped. “This is…” one began, before the banana sneezed glitter onto their shoes.\n\nMr. Pudelwick, meanwhile, had been secretly crafting a sock-shaped train engine. He presented it to Margo, who hugged him. “You’re a genius!”\n\n”No,” he said, eyeing her glittery banana. “You’re the madwoman who turned my life into a yarn bomb.”
