By seven the fruit kiosk has already cleared a little space on the counter for two brass scales the size of bottle caps. The toucans stand behind the berries as if they had always worked there. A raspberry is greeted first. Only after that, and only after a nod to the customer, does a good morning get weighed and set down, no heavier than a single seed.
We asked at the kiosk. "They will not sell you two greetings," said the woman who polishes the apples. "I tried, because I was in a hurry and thought extra manners might travel better. The second one sat on the scale, thought about it, and climbed back into the beak. The berry looked relieved."
Yesterday a man came back at dusk with the same raspberry still in his pocket. They weighed it again, found last morning still inside, and sent him home with a thank-you instead of another. The park keeper left a note by the pears: if the berry has not nodded, please wait. The queue, by then, already knew how.