Winter, 2003
Cambridge, MA

During some work for the Lowell House Opera, I lost one of my gloves. I'd say that I was actually more upset that the gloves had been rendered useless in their separation. The fact that I couldn't use them anymore was only a secondary annoyance. But then one day when I was buying a spare change newspaper, I saw that the guy was wearing only one glove. My glove. I knew straight away that I wanted to get him the other glove, but didn't have it with me at the time.

Then it took me over a week to actually get the glove (I had lent the glove to Jae Rhim). Up until I got it back, I had been seeing the guy with my other glove - or rather his other glove - all the time. Once I had the glove to give him, I didn't see him at all. I was feeling awful the whole time, as the weather had taken yet another unseasonably cold turn. And the wind would make my fingers numb in less than a minute.

But eventually I did find him. Happily, he still had both of his hands. He also had a matched pair of gloves - identical in style to the one I had lost. As I approached him to give him the glove, I saw that he simply had one tucked under his arm. He could provide a warm protective layer for both hands at any time he desired. He just needed a bare hand to distribute his papers and collect his $1 bills.

I had worked out the many ways that I could have presnted the glove to this man. I considered whether I should mention that the glove he was wering was mine, whether it would be better to talk to the guy for a while or if I should just leave him quickly. I thought about whether that could lead to a relationship.

I bought a paper and walked away.