0 gloves

She reviewed the tape one last time, checking over the transcript.  There was very little conversation during this most recent session.  Sometimes she preferred things that way.  The less talking there was the less time she had to ponder all the 'what ifs' that tended to plague her when meeting someone.  Plus, it made the transcribing a lot easier.  Her finger hit the save button and closed the program down.  She looked down at the transcript, at the generic use of 'female' and 'male'.  When she had first started this she had used the terms 'me' and 'him', but after many many disappointing episodes, she found it easier this way.  It allowed her to distance herself from the whole process; she could squelch the hope and the disappointment by pretending it wasn't her. 

Carefully she reread over the center of her notes, the ones she did from memory.  She closed her eyes and opened her mind for a brief moment allowing the visions to replay themselves in her mind.  The nice thing about the replay is that they lacked the emotions and feelings that enveloped her during each of the sessions.  She opened her eyes, looked over the words she had written, and felt satisfied that they were accurate.  Closing the notebook, she put down the pencil and grabbed the gloves that sat next to her.  Slowly she pulled on one long shoulder-length glove and then the other.  Today her signature apparel was bright pink with alternating thin and thick black stripes running their length and width creating a checkered pattern.  She brushed her fingers along her shoulders were her blouse met her gloves assuring that there was no gap.  Satisfied that she was well covered, she stood and left the analysis room.