His name is Gotham Greggory, and we met on a safari.
His opening line was whether I preferred the giraffes because they’re taller.
We had dinner at a restaurant under a starlit sky and some hyenas in the distance, but the main dish was the way he listened to me ramble on about how I stumbled upon Kiwi and knew we were soulmates from first chirp.
Because any man who can tune in so meaningfully when I’m talking about a pudgy bird is a man who won’t tune out when I need him.
Three years, 125 days later, he proposed, and I of course, said yes.
Our wedding was quaint, coastal and without exotic animals, much to the dismay of my parents who thought we should’ve gone with a safari theme.
But giraffes are the feature of our baby’s room, so we did weave safaris in, and maybe George will be as tall as his dad someday.
For portfolio purposes only. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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