Technical terms and unfathomable technology, all triggering apparitions of scene 1 in Terminator 2.

I found myself in way over my head here. Despite my ignorance, I enjoyed the hours spent at Andrew's Studio Akron, save for one minor inconvenience--I've been without my right hand glove ever since.

Some time during our revelry, the right hand glove escaped from my coat's shoulder loop. I'm not sure why the poor fellow would want to escape, leaving his left hand compatriot matchless and his assigned right hand naked. Apparently, the Right Glove believed himself destined for brighter and better body parts. I have to wonder if he's scared out there by himself. I shutter each night, pondering his lonely fright.

Step into my glove's fingers for a moment. Imagine his worry. And imagine my right hand's inevitable chill.

Come home righty.