He had no reason to cross the road, yet at the same time, he had no reason not to. He pondered his life for a moment, reflecting on how all his actions—or rather, inaction—had led to a life resembling paste. A life of not is no real life at all, he thought to himself.

He decided he would step beyond his comfort zone and see what lay beyond the road. He would finally see what was on the other side. One might say he would finally see what was on The Far Side.

And that was the delusion he told himself every day for the rest of his life—until he died alone.

For, you see, the chicken never crossed the road.

He was too chicken.