uffington white horse personal ad

by Courtney Burton

I was a tall buxom blonde with a Sagittarius tattoo on my hip and you were a lean, tan silver fox with a cigarette perched between your fingers. We met at the Uffington White Horse on White Horse Hill. It was a Tuesday, and no one was there except a school tour that departed just as I arrived. And you. You sat on the hill staring off into the middle distance, a professional camera in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I asked you for a smoke. I was there from America to see castles for the first time. You were there as a photo journalist. Your fingers were bandaged, you said, from an avocado pitting incident. I was surprised you found avocados in the UK. You said you hadn't; you just arrived from Tijuana, where you were photographing border patrol and were shot at but only sustained injuries from pitting avocados. The avocado won, I said. It was worth it, you said. You had fantastic stories. You lived in India for five years and raised a tiger cub you called Saffron, which was your pet until a local farmer shot it for eating his cows. You said you'd name your daughter Saffron one day as a tribute. Your threadbare shirt had a hole near the breastpocket that I poked my finger in and watched your skin turn to gooseflesh. I asked about the Uffington White Horse, how close you'd been. You said you couldn't get close enough to get on top of it because it's forbidden. I asked what happens if you get on top of the horse. You patted your lap, leaned back on your elbows, and told me to try it and find out.

I found out. 

We didn't exchange names. Saffron would love to meet you. You can find us at area code ...

Photo of Courtney Burton

BIO: Courtney Burton is an artist, writer, and musician living in Springfield, Missouri. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming on SmokeLong Quarterly, Ghost Parachute, Pithead Chapel, BULL, Flash Frog, and Moon City Review.