When dusk first settled on the square, the lamplighter did not strike a match. He arrived with a little teapot, poured a round for every post, and waited until each lamp had clinked its glass against the next.
We asked at the kiosk beside the benches. "They will not glow for a lonely sip," said the vendor, wrapping a warm bun. "The west post is shy. If the east one has not said good evening yet, the whole square stays politely dim. Nobody rushes a lamp that is still stirring sugar."
A notice from City Hall, pinned under the teapot's cozy, reads: "Kindly greet the posts before asking for light. Thank you for waiting through one shared toast."
The next evening a sparrow sat on the teapot lid and stayed for the clink. Neighbors swear the square has never said good night more softly.