BetrayStoriesMango's New Word
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The moment I walked through the door, Mango started screeching. Not her usual welcome—the cheerful wolf-whistle she'd learned from the plumber—but a frantic, almost jubilant squawk. "Hi, Chloe! Oh, Chloe!" She bobbed her crest, beak open, as if delighted by a secret I wasn't in on.
I dropped my duffel bag. "What's that, girl?" I laughed, assuming she'd picked up a phrase from a TV show or a delivery person. But my husband, Tom, froze in the kitchen doorway, a dish towel twisted in his hands. "She's been doing that all month," he said, too quickly. "Must have heard it on some commercial."
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