The sun beat down on Ren and Brooke’s backs as they squatted in front of the chicken coop. Paintbrushes in hand, they surveyed their project with a critical eye.
“It’s so… brown,” Ren sighed, dabbing her brush into a can of sky-blue paint.
“It’s a chicken coop,” Brooke countered, dipping her brush into sunshine yellow. “Brown is practical.”
Ren snorted. “Practical is boring. Our chickens deserve a palace, not a mud hut.”
Brooke giggled. “A palace for chickens? You’re dreaming.”
“No, I’m not,” Ren insisted. “Close your eyes and imagine it.”
Brooke obediently squeezed her eyes shut.
“The walls are a vibrant turquoise, like the sea on a clear day,” Ren narrated. “The roof is sunflower yellow, so cheerful it makes the hens lay extra eggs. And the door…” She paused for dramatic effect. “…The door is a burst of colours, a rainbow welcome for our feathered friends.”
Brooke opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. “That does sound nice,” she admitted.
They set to work, their laughter echoing across the farm. Blue and yellow strokes transformed the drab coop into a cheerful cottage. Ren carefully painted a rainbow arch on the door, each colour bleeding into the next. Brooke added fluffy clouds and a grinning sun.
Hours later, they stood back, arms smeared with paint, faces glowing with pride. The chicken coop was no longer just a coop; it was a masterpiece, a testament to their creativity and sisterly bond.
The chickens seemed to agree. They strutted out of the coop, clucking with approval, their feathers shimmering in the colorful light. Ren and Brooke exchanged a triumphant grin. Their chickens might not live in a palace, but they certainly had the most stylish coop in the county.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields, Ren and Brooke knew this was a day they’d never forget – a day they transformed a boring brown box into a beacon of joy, one brushstroke at a time.
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