you reach into the coat pocket for the pair and find only the left. the right is not in the other pocket. not in the drawer. not under the chair. it is somewhere — the labyrinth keeps such things — but it is not where the left expects it to be.
this means a thing is being forgotten on your behalf. not the glove. the thing the glove was meant to remind you of: a small promise, a name said yesterday and not yet answered, a kindness owed but undecided about. the left appears so you remember the absence has a shape.
do not search further. put the left back. write the forgotten thing on a slip of paper. by evening either the right glove or the thing it stood for will return; do not be too curious about which.
— field note: gloves come back when their pair is set out for them. so do other things. so do people.