That’s Nugget.
She’s not just a chicken. She’s his chicken.
Every morning before school, Finn runs outside barefoot to find her. He talks to her about spelling tests and clouds. She follows him like a loyal dog and waits for him by the porch every afternoon.
After his mom left last year, Finn went quiet. He stopped smiling, barely ate, and slept poorly. Then Nugget wandered into our yard—this awkward little puff of yellow—and everything changed. Finn started laughing again. Eating. Living.
