True to Romeo’s word, the glove upon Juliet’s hand was the happiest garment upon her body. The thought, “See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!” resonated in my ears. Made of soft pearl white satin, I was woven by fair French maids in the country, I was a young age of 4 months. Act II, Scene I was the height of my short career.


During the burial process, prized pieces of clothing are usually placed on the body to ensure a sense of reality to the grieving process. I was one of Juliet’s prized gloves, and I loved my job. During the funeral, I cried dry, silent tears not visible to the naked human eye. People kissed me and paid their respects for my dead mistress. The dark catacomb ceiling loomed over me, and the tomb was sealed, leaving me alone with my dead lady.


As Juliet “slept”, I dreamed. I dreamed the beautiful ray of light was awoken by her love. They ran out of the tomb together, and defied the odds. Those thoughts were followed by the first time that my lady laid her eyes on Romeo. I knew then they were star-crossed, the feeling hung over the balcony. Romeo’s poetry to his love made my heart flutter, and then my mistress gave her bright and loving retort. Those thoughts were erased by the thoughts of the past hours, or sadness and grief by the Capulet’s and the entire town. For she was dearly loved and cherished, as was Romeo.


The now bride less and saddened Paris entered with flowers. What an exquisite bouquet! I then heard Page, the bachelor’s servant leave in hurried and quick steps. Paris gave his wonderful eulogy of beckoning love. My, what a waste for a stunning and cold dead young bride! He crowed about his heartbreaking loss. Above the chamber, whispers of Romeo to Balthazar entered the room. Even Juliet’s body perked up at the words. For a moment, it appeared as if she was faintly smiling.


Paris gave a hot tempered conclusion to Romeo’s entrance. He was furious that a Montague was “desecrating” the tomb. Of all people to crush this moment, it was to be a hated Montague. Romeo attempted to jeer the poor heart hardened and anxious Paris away from his wife’s altar. Oh my! My lady’s fiancé lay dead at her husband’s feet. Romeo was overcome with grief. The bachelor’s last breath spoke sweetly and deliriously of being laid to Juliet’s body. The living man was true to his word.


Being a glove, I felt Juliet’s pulse start. “She’s alive?” I was puzzled and very discombobulated at the thought. I wished I could speak! Oh, how I wish I could speak for that moment alone! To tell Romeo his beloved was actually alive. The prescribed poison was not needed. I was interrupted at the contemplation. Romeo gave a teary eyed speech to his love, who to him, was dead. He did not know! The poison was snatched from Romeo’s belt by his hand. The cork was pulled off, and the small but effective cork hit the cork, and it was shedding tears too. Before the poison was imbibed, a single, hopeful tear fell on Romeo’s left cheek. The tear gazed at Juliet, then myself. It was breathtakingly sad, the scene. I couldn’t bear the pain the tear had to release by falling to Juliet’s breast. The poison was knocked-back, and Romeo whispered a single utterance. “O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die”….


Sadly and quite unfortunately, that was the last of the fair Romeo. Juliet woke up as her pulse quickened and stabilized. She rose her hand to her cheek, and saw Romeo’s body. She gasped in fearful cries to her beloved. Friar Lawrence, the priest, has a grave look on his face. “Where is my love?” Friar Lawrence turned away, and paced at the noise of the mob coming down the road. Juliet couldn’t believe her eyes, and used my formerly neat surface to dry her sleep shine. She jumped off the table, and lifted the cup to her breast. I received a brief of the poison, and it tasted like the sweetness of rosemary, and the bitterness of unripe pine. My, was I glad to not be mortal!


My lady waved Friar Lawrence on, and thought about life without Romeo. Like a fat, impulsive, slob, she licked the vial clean for poison. Frustrated, she pointed Romeo’s dagger at her heart. I couldn’t believe at this point, I was helping constructing a death of a startlingly beauty. The dagger was cold and devious in its plot. It was cool in touch and spirit as I was forced to hold it. Juliet, my fair lady, then pierced her bosom into her heart.


Shortly afterward, the proper authorities came and examined the scene. The Capulet’s and Montague’s were stunned, and everyone who laid their eyes on me were not pleased, and were resentful l towards my appearance, and position upon Juliet’s hand. Friar Lawrence was interviewed, and everything was explained. The Prince of Verona was later quoted saying, “For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” To add to this saying, here’s my version. “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet, her glove, and her Romeo.”