As always, the stranger is a familiar figure at the park. Lately, you find yourself frequenting this overgrown haven just for the chance to observe him. You settle discreetly on a weathered bench, your newspaper held up in a slightly humorous attempt at disguise. Through its pages, you catch sight of the dapper Englishman sauntering by, his steps unhurried and graceful.

Suddenly, a crow, clutching a rose in its beak, hops into his path. The man emits a sound of delight, a soft, genuine expression of joy. With a flourish, he sweeps his hand in a courtly gesture, inviting the bird to proceed. The crow responds with a caw, then happily continues along the path.