Grunting With Gabe

I first met him when I was only fifty-eight. I was in the travel agency carrying a cookie when he barrelled in. He was wearing a crimson pair of Crocs, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his mouth, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the cookie down when he inched beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the cookie right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to grunt.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the jewelry store for a Mudslide. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the jewelry store, I learned that his name was Gabe, and that he was a mystic. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a fortune teller.

I guess it was love at first grunt. Some might say we had toys in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was nine years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still grunting for each other.