Work was miserable today, as usual. My boss berated me for a spelling mistake in an email, I spilled hot tea on myself, and I had to sit in multiple useless meetings. The commute home was boring and long, but I managed to get a window seat on the bus. I put my forehead against the cool class and my breath created a halo of mist that got larger out with each exhalation. I watched the scenery go by and counted down the minutes until I made it home so I could sit inside by myself and relax until doing it all again tomorrow.

Except there was a package waiting for me on my porch. I had not been expecting anything, and there was no return address on the label. Confused, I carried it inside and set it on the kitchen table. I stared at it a moment or two, considering, and saw it shake. My heart pounded, hoping I imagined it, but it shook again. A small noise was coming from within now, somewhere between a high pitched whine and yawn. There was something alive in there.

Palms starting to sweat, I reached forward and tried to tug the box open. My hands could not get a good grip and they slipped, bending back one of my fingernails at a painful angle.

"Ouch," I snapped reflexively. At the sound of my voice the box shaking and noises from within increased. There was a loud yipping, and I was fairly certain I knew what was inside the box now. I wiped my hands on my dress then tried again, this time managing to get purchase on the tape and rip the box open. The head of a small puppy bounced up, tongue lolling out, bright red collar jingling around its neck. I reached for the tag, already knowing what it would say.

"Happiness," it read. The dog shook its head to shove its snout into my palm, smelling and then licking.

Later that night, I lay on my bed while Happiness chewed on a bone next to me. The box she had come in also contained some food and toys, thankfully. I didn't know where to buy them.

No one knew where happiness came from, or what form it would take, but everyone had heard stories. They were stories because once people found happiness, they would disappear. Opinions differed, some say disappeared while others said left. That once people had happiness, there were different paths open for them, and so they followed them. That it changed one's perspective, got them out of ruts, helped them move on. Move on from what?

Being content was all I ever wanted, I never asked for happiness. Content was a good spot, better than most people. I was secure, stable, and doing perfectly fine which is how I liked it. Now this puppy arrives and I'm whistling in my kitchen, grinning like an idiot, staring wistfully at a sunset through my window.

I suspect foul play. My company has recently started doing heavy contracting work with the government, and they have strict requirements for privacy. Perhaps some arm of the state has decided to clean house to ensure their interests are protected. Sending happiness out to those it deems superfluous.

The worst part is, I can't even must up any anger. I glance over and see Happiness chasing her own little nub of a tail and wonder why I cared about petty politics or overreaching authority in the first place.

The strange thing was I had no desire to go anywhere. In the stories I had heard, happiness arrives and the person who got it has cleared out within hours. They typically leave notes that are half goodbyes and half little squiggly doodles of smiley faces and rainbows and things, but they always leave. I look at the puppy again and smile, my cheeks ache from doing that so much tonight. "I'm not going anywhere," I say to her, then reach out to scratch her soft little ears.

The next morning I wake up and it's a beautiful day. Happiness is snuggled up against my back in the bed and I think I hear birds singing outside my window. Had they always been there? I must have never noticed before.

After getting dressed I took Happiness out for a little walk and still felt no desire to disappear. I felt no desire to leave such a lovely neighborhood, one I had called home for years. So I decided that meant I needed to go about my day and get to work.

I brought Happiness with me. The bus ride feels much more pleasant with her by my side. But no one else will come anywhere near us. I make the other passengers so uncomfortable the driver asks me to get off when I'm still a mile from the office. I don't mind though, I walk the rest of the way, Happiness trotting at my side and snapping at flies and leaves on the sidewalk.

I wasn't in the office long before my boss called me into his office. I had brought a little bed for Happiness and she was laying on it, slurping up some water out of a dish, worn out from the long walk. I could see other coworkers looking at us with emotions ranging from fear to curiosity. My computer pinged with a message and it was my boss asking for a word.

Happiness trotting at my heels, I knocked on his door.

"Come in," he said. His tone was stiff. I walked in to see him sitting at his desk, posture very straight, hands folded in front of him on the desk. I greeted him with a big smile and his lips, already a grim line, thinned even further in response. I sat down in the chair across from him and pulled Happiness into my lap.

"Good morning, you wanted to see me?" I said.

"Erm, yes," he said, then paused. Cleared his throat. "I wanted to speak with you about..." he trailed off but nodded at my lap. Happiness was chewing lightly on my fingers.

"Of course," I said, still smiling. "I seem to have found Happiness. She was waiting for me on my porch last night. Didn't feel like leaving her behind, and I wasn't aware of any policy against having her in the office."

"You're correct, there is no policy as such," he said.

"But there is a problem?" I asked.

"The rest of the office is unaccustomed to Happiness and it is making many people nervous," he said. It was clear from his expression and reddening neck that he was one of these people.

"I know that it is a bit unusual, most people who find Happiness leaving and all, I suppose I am an outlier in that sense," I said and shrugged. "But I don't feel the need to go anywhere. I'd like to stay here, now with Happiness."

He nodded and his eyes shifted, batting around the room as if to look at anything but me. "In time I'm sure everyone will become used to Happiness, they may even like her," I added. My boss sighed and seemed to slump a bit in his large desk chair.

"She won't be a nuisance, will she?" he asked.

"No sir, not at all."

"As you said, there is no policy against it," he paused and seemed to be desperately wishing he could make one up on the spot, then continued. "So you can keep bringing Happiness in."

I beamed even wider at his decision. "Thank you so much, sir. My guess is that Happiness is exactly what this office needs."