The Lonely Girl’s Vegetable Patch

I never imagined horses would play a significant role in my life. As a young girl, I saw them more as decorative elements on school binders rather than actual animals. The first time I encountered a horse in person, at a state fair, I was struck by an unfamiliar aroma. It was salty and thick, not unpleasant, but rather hard-earned, like motor oil.

A man, likely the horse's owner, asked if I wanted to sit on its back. Initially, I hesitated, considering the size and presence of the animal. I worried about fitting the role and making a strange face while sitting atop it. The man, believing my hesitation was fear, reassured me that it was okay. Perhaps next year, I would be bigger and braver.

Almost immediately, the horse lowered its penis, revealing a pink, flaky surface. The crowd around us laughed, perhaps out of discomfort at my reaction and the shock of the scene. Overwhelmed, I decided to take the next morning off to drive Nico's parents to the airport. They seemed to think I was doing them a favor, even offering to replace the gas in the car for my use.

On the drive back, I rolled down all the windows, feeling the wind against my skin and allowing it to dry out my teeth. Despite the relief, I still felt confined. The steering wheel appeared bulky, and the dashboard icons seemed outdated and insufficient. I chose to navigate through Main Street, rather than taking a more direct route to avoid traffic.

The café on Main Street had recently added a sandwich board with a balloon, signaling tomorrow's arrival. My thoughts became hazy, and my hands grew hot against the steering wheel. The next day was windy, and the horses seemed agitated. Diane and Aurora were nearby, discussing their signs for the day. Diane identified as a Taurus, while Aurora was a Libra.

Tristan, working on fresh wood shavings, looked at me shyly through the dust. Had he missed my day off? He commented that I looked "interesting" due to my minimal make-up and fitted shirt. I retorted that I had chosen these elements because I would not have time to change before heading to the café. I felt tense, having two trail rides scheduled for the day.

One involved a mom wanting a pony ride for her four-year-old son, which Tristan assigned to the autumn girls. I was envious, believing that leading the horses around was my specialty. As we navigated the trail, the wind continued unabated, causing the horses' manes and tails to become disheveled. I worried about the café, imagining Cleo behind the counter, preparing drinks and chatting with customers.

However, my plans were limited due to the unpredictability of the situation. As we approached the clearing at the end of the trail, a group of turkey vultures descended from a tree, covering us like black umbrellas. The mother beside me gasped in shock, which seemed delayed. I halted my horse and turned to her, remarking that if one got too close to a turkey vulture, it would projectile vomit on them. I turned away, leaving her to process the revelation.