At dusk the playground swings posted a little paper by the chains: evening breeze by appointment, one seat kept empty, one gentle push apiece.
We asked at the kiosk. "He used to rush through all at once," said the park keeper, holding the chain as if it were a guest's coat. "Now he sits on the other seat, nods to the link, and only then gives a single sway. The children wait. They like watching him remember his manners."
In the notebook by the sand someone wrote, "The empty seat dipped first. Very tidy." Another line, in crayon: "The chain nodded back. My hat stayed on."
A day later the same breeze came early and sat with its hands in its pockets until a girl of six pointed to the sign, after which it nodded twice and pushed exactly once.