Free Once Upon a Road Trip by Angela N. Blount

Mark to stop for a moment while she took a picture. Angie hadn’t noticed the hedges along either side were filled with white roses, until Mark spontaneously broke into a short musical number over them.
    “ . . .everything’s coming up roses!” His rich voice carried as he did a tight spin and gestured to the flora. The outburst briefly drew the attention of a half dozen people nearby, who didn’t seem to know what to make of it. If Mark noticed the stares, he didn’t acknowledge them.
    “What’s that from?” Angie asked quickly, concerned he might progress to a full-fledged production if he wasn’t redirected. 
    “Gypsy: A Musical Fable.” He appeared momentarily aghast at her lack of recognition, clawing his upturned hands before himself. “It’s only considered to be the -greatest- American musical of all time!”
    Angie watched out of the corner of her eye as a passing woman steered her two small children by their shoulders, giving Mark an excessively wide birth. “Okay, sure. Gypsy,” she said and then paused. “You know what? I like the sound of that.” She gave Mark’s shoulder a firm, congratulatory pat. “Thank you. You just found the perfect name for my car.” She continued walking, taking the lead on their way to the Penguinarium.
    Mark lifted a finger in a look of confusion before hurrying to catch up with her. “You’re welcome?” He glanced at his watch, falling in line with her stride. “We ought to be right on time. This is my favorite habitat by far, even though they only have three of the seventeen existing species—”
    Angie kept her camera in hand as they stepped into the cooled air of the rounded, concrete building. Her attention was immediately drawn to the cylindrical structure filling the center of the room. The rocky, three-sided habitat rose up surrounded by a glass-encased pool that stood well above waist level. As they moved closer, she could see the pool was continuous, flowing in a rapid counterclockwise motion around the central habitat. Penguins of varying sizes plunged into the water to swim against the current, taking on the characteristic underwater flying pose she’d often seen on television.
    “Huh. It’s like…a penguin treadmill,” she mused aloud.
    “Precisely.” Mark shuffled to her right, watching as the largest of the penguin species were tossed small fish by their handlers. “It’s one of the few zoos in North America to utilize this form of containment.”
    A sprightly young girl pointed toward the most sizable of the flightless birds. Too small to see over the top of the pool, her pigtails bobbed freely as she bounced up and down. “Look mommy! It’s an Emperor Penguin, like from my book!”
    “I wish it were.” Mark bent slightly at the waist, coming closer to the child’s level while giving her a singular pat on the head. “Actually, that’s a King Penguin. It’s an easy mistake to make, they’re very closely related.”  His tone was pleasantly authoritative, as it tended to be regardless of who he was speaking to. He also appeared unaware of the irritation that soured the face of the little girl’s mother.
    “Oh,” the child said, giving Mark a confused look before turning her attentions to a smaller penguin nearby. Her mother eased to her side, placing an arm around the girl while subtly positioning herself as a buffer between her offspring and Mark. Mark, however, showed no signs of recognizing this. He’d already moved on to another section of the habitat.
    Angie followed after him. She was becoming convinced that her friend had no idea of when his behavior or choice of words could be considered off-putting. She knew he meant no harm whatsoever, but she also knew the general public wasn’t privileged with the kind of background knowledge she’d accumulated about him. If today was any indicator of a “normal” outing for him, she had to wonder if his future would hold to a pattern of unwitting alienation. She also