Write about a pair of gloves – what kind of gloves are they? Who wears them and why?
The little glove seemed sad all alone on the path. I picked it up, dusted as much dirt away as I could and hung on the spiked fence. A child somewhere would be missing that. The wind was keen, with just a nip of the snow that was soon to arrive. The multi-coloured fingers flapped, waving to all that passed as if trying desperately to get their attention, but for the most part it was ignored. A sudden squeal of excitement pierced the wind. Snatched unceremoniously, a cold little hand was thrust into it and off they went, together again.