Interrupting the silence

At the closing, it came up in conversation that I have a horse. I indicated where I kept him, and our lawyer – whose name I picked randomly off a list of recommendations provided by our real estate agent, mostly because she was the only woman – started laughing.

“We own Twinkie!” she said.

Twinkie, the semi-retired pinto lesson pony who lived three stalls down from Tristan.

I don’t know if this is a “horse world is small” moment or a “Vermont is small” moment or some bizarre intersection of both at once, but I laughed pretty hard too.