Juliette

Juliette is older than I; she has many stories to tell.

She came to me by accident: When I released Juliette from the bubble wrap that protected her during shipment, the mistake was obvious.

I sat in my easy chair gently turning Juliette around in my hands to explore all her hidden features and secrets.

“Watchyá-got-there, big boy?” my ever-present wing mate Angel asked, always sticking her nose into my private affairs.

“I don’t know yet,” I replied, truthfully. "She is not what I ordered.”

“Well, send her packing,” Angel snipped. "You're a writer, not an over-aged paparazzi."

I shrugged my shoulders. For a folding camera, Juliette was surprisingly small and light, ahead of her time, a true pocket camera. I began to feel that Juliette and I were destined to fall in love and was immediately smitten as soon as I saw her name embossed into the finely grained leather covering wrapped around most of her body. The leather was in perfect condition for an old gal.

They say men fall hard, immediately, when they see what they like. Being all guy, I too fell hard, the first time I uttered her name, Juliette.

This is a Memoir, it is not fiction. You may read the balance of this story on the Short Story page of my website, anglechroniclestories.com