[Setting: A Quiet Hilltop at Sunset]

The golden light of the setting sun bathes the hilltop in warm hues. A lone tree stands sentinel against the horizon, its leaves fluttering gently in the breeze. The God of Coincidence sits cross-legged in the grass, humming a tune that might—or might not—be improvised.

Beside him sits the Goat. Its expression, though ostensibly blank, carries a distinct air of exhaustion, as if it has borne witness to one too many of the GOC’s tales.

God of Coincidence (breaking the silence): “Ah, sunsets. Nature’s way of saying, ‘That’s all for today, folks.’ Or maybe just, ‘Look, colors!’”

The Goat stares at the horizon, unblinking.

God of Coincidence (leaning back on his elbows): “You know, this reminds me of a story. A good one. Possibly my best one yet. Do you want to hear it?”

The Goat lets out a deep, guttural bleat—a noise that could either be a resigned "yes" or a stern "please don’t." The GOC takes it as enthusiastic consent.

The Tale of the Wandering Shepherd

God of Coincidence (gesturing expansively):

“Once upon a time, there was a shepherd named Ruvik. Not a particularly clever man, but dedicated. He had a flock of exactly seventy-seven sheep. Why seventy-seven? Because he once read somewhere that it was a lucky number, and he wasn’t one to take chances with luck.

One day, Ruvik lost his way. He wandered far from his usual grazing fields and found himself in a strange, barren land. The sheep began to grow restless, bleating in unison like a particularly disgruntled choir. Ruvik, desperate to calm them, decided to entertain them with a story of his own.”

The Goat lets out another low bleat, turning its head toward the GOC with what might be interpreted as a sarcastic glare.

God of Coincidence (nodding solemnly):

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Yes, my four-legged friend, this is where it gets interesting. You see, Ruvik’s story was about a magical goat—a goat so stubborn it could bend the very fabric of reality by sheer willpower. It’s said that wherever this goat wandered, it left a trail of happy accidents and peculiar circumstances.

The sheep, being sheep, didn’t really understand the story. But here’s the twist: they believed it. And so, when Ruvik finally reached the edge of the barren land, his flock led him to a hidden spring—a spring he would’ve never found on his own. He called it ‘The Goat’s Blessing.’”

The Goat stares at the GOC, unmoving. The silence between them is palpable.

The Arrival of Elliot

Just as the GOC is about to launch into another tangent, Elliot appears at the base of the hill, huffing and puffing from the climb. His hair is mussed, his shirt slightly untucked, and his expression one of utter disbelief.

Elliot (out of breath, incredulous): “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re telling goat stories now?”

God of Coincidence (grinning, waving cheerfully): “Ah, Elliot! Perfect timing. We were just discussing the finer points of stubbornness and divinely inspired navigation. Care to join?”

Elliot glances at the Goat, who offers a slow blink in response.

Elliot (dropping onto the grass with a sigh): “I don’t know what’s worse—finding you here or realizing I’m starting to expect it.”

God of Coincidence (nodding sagely): “Expectation is the foundation of coincidence, my dear Elliot. Or perhaps it’s the other way around. Shall we debate it over some sunset viewing?”

Elliot reluctantly sits down beside them, glancing at the Goat.

Elliot (to the Goat): “I feel like you get me.”

The Goat lets out a low bleat, which Elliot interprets as mutual commiseration.

The Moral (?)

God of Coincidence (leaning forward, gazing at the sunset):

“So, what’s the point of the story, you ask? Is it about faith? Luck? The absurd power of stubbornness? Perhaps it’s about the beauty of not understanding and yet trusting the journey. Or maybe…” (pauses, grinning) “…it’s just a good excuse to talk about a goat.”

The Goat lets out an ear-piercing bleat that echoes across the hilltop, startling a flock of birds from the tree.

Elliot (deadpan): “Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure what’s more ridiculous—your stories or the fact that I’m starting to look forward to them.”

God of Coincidence (laughing, throwing an arm around Elliot): “Ah, see? You’re learning. Coincidences do tend to stack.”

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of deep orange and purple, the three sit in companionable silence. For a moment, it almost feels like everything makes sense. Almost.

[End Scene]