By breakfast the fence had a little waiting room. The bubbles sat in a row of seed-sized benches, each taking a moment to settle, and only after they had nodded to the porch cat did they lift off into the breeze.
We asked at the kiosk by the gate. "They used to rush past like they had an appointment," said a man with a paper bag of plums. "Now they say good morning first. The cat looks less startled, which is a kindness at that hour."
A neighbor swore the whole street had learned the order by afternoon. Nobody hurried a bubble off its bench. Even the cat, being well brought up, waited for the last nod before it stretched and claimed the warmest plank.