Wren clipped on her headphones and checked her phone while carrying eggs toward the farmhouse. A goat video began with a ridiculous sneeze. “Achoo!” Wren laughed so suddenly that one egg wobbled. The rooster crowed as she steadied the basket.
By the chicken coop, Wren watched the goat sneeze again. “Achoo!” she whispered, pressing replay. The clip was still funny, but the phone’s bright screen flashed in the afternoon sun, making her squint before she tucked it away.
At the kitchen door, Wren showed her family the sneeze. Laughter burst across the porch. Then she gathered fallen apples beneath the old tree, pocketed her phone, and hurried toward the barn with the basket swinging lightly at her side.
Inside the barn, Wren swept hay between the stalls and checked her phone between strokes. A gust rushed through the open doors. Hay lifted into a fluffy cloud, covering her boots, while the barn cat sprang onto a feed sack. Wren grinned and began recording.
After the hay settled, Wren carried water toward the trough. Her phone slipped from her pocket and landed with a soft plop in the grass. She removed her headphones and listened. Without the familiar clips, the quiet seemed suddenly too large.
“Come on,” Wren whispered. She searched beneath the clover, beside the fence post, and under a broad pumpkin leaf. Wind rustled the ribbons: flap, flap, flap. Then a small teal corner appeared in the grass.
Wren wiped the phone clean with her sleeve and carried it to supper. The funniest videos traveled around the table. Her family imitated the sneezing goat—“Achoo!”—until cups rattled and everyone laughed again.
After supper, Wren clipped on her headphones for the evening chores. She carried the empty basket past the barn as familiar laughter followed from the kitchen. Beyond the fence, the peaceful farm settled under lavender clouds, and the rooster called once more.