Julian and His Friend
268 Words
Julian’s old college friend, Devon, arrived in ripped jeans and too much cologne.
“Bro, where have you been?” he said, giving him that thumping man-hug that said “I love you” without saying it.
Julian shrugged. “Just…working.”
“Still moping about Eliza?”
Julian laughed. “Eliza’s a tax deduction. I’m done.”
Devon blinked. “Then what? You got a new one? Someone local? Is she hot? You got that post-romance glow, my guy.”
Julian hesitated. “I met someone.”
Devon grinned. “Oh yeah? Give me the stats.”
Julian looked down. “She’s…amazing. Beautiful. Strong. The most elegant woman I’ve ever known. She listens. She challenges me. She makes me feel… seen.”
Devon narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“She’s sixty-five.”
Dead silence.
Then Devon burst into laughter. Loud, wheezing, slap-your-knee laughter.
“Wait—wait—you’re serious? Sixty-five? Are you in her will, bro?”
Julian’s jaw clenched.
“Jesus, Jules. What, is she collecting you like Social Security? You been knocking the cobwebs off her Chanel?”
“Shut up.”
“I mean, is it even still…functional down there? Or do you need WD-40—”
“I said shut up.”
Devon froze. Julian’s eyes burned.
“She’s not a joke. She’s not your punchline. She’s more woman than anyone I’ve ever known. And if you can’t respect that, then don’t say another word.”
Devon blinked. “Okay. Damn. Didn’t realize you were…serious.”
Julian stood and walked to the window. “Yeah. I didn’t either.”
- Writer
