XXII: The Surprise

I gave The American an early birthday gift.

Note to Self: consider a bigger coat.
The tickets were for some screening in London she'd been wanting to attend. This meant traveling to London, which we did the night before, landing the day of the event. We were there bright and early, able to watch the sun come up over the duck pond in Kensington Gardens . . .

. . . and walk the Palace grounds . . .

It was chilly, so we visited The Orangery and enjoyed hot chocolate while sitting like cats in a sunspot.

The Orangery
We whiled away the day in this fashion; I'm always happy and relaxed when home in London, and The American was good company because she was losing her voice, which meant she spent more time simply smiling and less time making a fool of herself by talking. Though the locals seemed a bit confused by her muteness.

We went to the screening, of course.

I fancy that fellow on the left looks a bit like me.

I had my own seat . . . at first.

Long story short, The American threw me over for a better vantage point. Voice or no voice, she has quite the self-interested streak. I can grudgingly admire it, but I don't have to like it. At least not when it works against me.

We flew home the following afternoon. A quick trip, all told, but a very happy birthday for The American.

And she still can't speak, which makes it a very happy day for me, too.

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