Rightie Lives! or Beyond the Pair: The Lost Glove Story

In a move that has stunned Minneapolis neighborhoods, area gloves have congregated together in what many perceive to be the first indication of spring.

The gathering of lost gloves began as a way of reconnecting.

“It was sad, really,” mumbled an un-named ski glove. “Here we’d been instrumental in keeping a hand warm and suddenly we’re on the streets, being pushed around by snow plows.”

“I’d lost hope,” opined a glove identified only as “Rightie”. “One minute I’m part of a team, you know, watching the other glove forced to pick up litter by our bus-riding overlord when we were casually removed to go digging through her purse and fell unnoticed to the curb. You can imagine my dismay when she got on the bus without us. I was lost! Lost!”

Many of the gloves tell the same story: forgotten on laps and dumped upon standing, left behind at bus stops, fallen from overstuffed bags, they are forced to live on the streets, turning to each other for structure, some resorting to anonymous, one-off hand jobs to provide the protection against the cold that they were designed to provide.

“I spent three days with a homeless man before he, too, lost me,” shudders a cashmere driving glove who refuses to give her name. “All I wanted was to do what I was manufactured to do. Is that so wrong? Is it wrong to give warmth? Is it?” It is here that the glove turns away, sobbing.

Those fearful, single days are over, thanks to two gloves with a dream: to find their mates.

“We’re going to stand up!” shouts one working glove. “We’re saying ‘no more! not while I have fingers!”

In other news, large gatherings of cigarette butts and discarded candy wrappers have gathered just outside of the circle of streetlamp light on the corner of Broadway and Buchanan.

Their spokesman, an empty Yoohoo bottle, hints at big things come the true thaw.