Gorillas aren’t chatty, like humans, prone to gossip and bad jokes.
But now and again we swap a story under the sun.
One day it’s my turn.
I tell my troop about Mack and Ruby and Bob and Stella and Julia and George, about my mother and father and sister.
When I am done, they look away, silent.
Kinyani moves closer. Her shoulder brushes mine, and we let the sun soak into our fur. Together.