The chicken perched on the shelf, staring.
“What are you staring at?” I asked.
“Nothing in particular,” the chicken said. “I just find it fascinating.”
“What?”
“All of it,” said the chicken. “It’s a fascinating world, the way you go about your business.”
“What makes it fascinating?”
“It’s just that I am so happy to be alive and sentient, and you don’t seem to be.”
“What do you mean? I’m happy.”
“Are you really? You seem to be stressed half the time.”
“There’s just so much to do.”
“So you say. You’re alive, and sentient, and that isn’t enough.”
“Well, it’s important to do something with your life,” I said.
“Yes, but you’re alive. Aren’t you happy about that?”
“Of course!”
“Then maybe smile, once in a while.”
