Gloved One

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I know you’re out there somewhere. Somewhere, somewhere. I know I’ll find you somehow – Moody Blues

I just hate losing one winter glove.

Losing a pair doesn’t really bother me, but for reasons unclear to me, parting ways with just ONE of glove frustrates me.

Yes, more pressing issues in this life should demand my attention, but that’s not so.

One Thursday this month I returned to my domicile after a trip to the grocery.

I put away groceries before gathering other items to take with me to work for that day.

In my haste, I found only ONE of my blue gloves sitting on a living room chair. My worst fear had come true.

I scoured the living room and kitchen in search for the missing glove, to no avail.

The lone remaining glove mocked me in its solitude. Should I throw it away?

This frantic search then continued into my auto and also the front porch. No luck.

Defeated, I later drove to a store to purchase a new PAIR of gloves. At least this pair was on sale.

I returned home and put away the goods I had bought. Of course, perched inside a cabinet was my long-lost glove.



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