It was an ordinary Tuesday.
Morning chores were underway. The laundry was humming. Stomach growls signaled the lunch hour was near.
And then there was a chicken at my door.
Betty is her name. She belongs to the neighbors across my gravel driveway. Along with her sisters Betty, Betty, Betty and Betty. There is no way to tell them apart.
This Betty, now dubbed Amanda, is a loner and a wanderer. She didn’t linger for long. Just long enough for a quick hello and a peek in the door.
Hey there, chicken.
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