An executive’s wife sees a camel running down the highway towards Lyon, a big city in France. Yet her husband refuses to believe her.
That night she and the camel embark on a series of unforeseen and humorous adventures, but still her husband refuses to believe the animal exists.
That is, until she gets the last laugh.
I thought about the lone camel wandering out there somewhere. Was she glad to be free? Or did she wish she were tied up, safe in her field?
The answer was right under my nose, beneath a sprawling tree, perhaps twenty yards from the hotel. A sandy, one-humped shape, visible through the sparse autumn foliage of spreading branches. She must be very used to manmade lights and humans to lie so near.
I had to get closer ...!
Afraid she might at any moment get up and move out of sight, I dashed back into the room, and threw a black leather jacket -- the only coat I’d brought with me on the trip -- over my long, white satin evening gown. I chucked off my silver high heeled evening sandals, and dragged on dark ankle boots. For once I remembered to grab my room key card and flew downstairs, out of the automatic back doors into the dewy night.
Cold air blasted down my lungs as my stinging eyes blinked into the darkness.
Close in front of me, serene and still, lay the camel. My heart thundered loudly. She must hear it! Only then did I ask myself what I intended to do next.
