It's sunny and dry today, and it was sunny and dry the last time.

They're wearing the same kind of jacket. White, thin material, like nylon, a hood dangling at the back. He's seen lots since Monday. Both have small rucksacks hooked over one shoulder. They all carry rucksacks, all their stuff's in a mess inside, they've just thrown it in. What's the point? Weird.

They're close, so close he can hear them talking and laughing. They're laughing together now, the one with dark hair laughs the loudest, the blonde is more cautious, not anxious or anything, she just doesn't need the space.

He had dressed with care. Jeans, T-shirt, baseball cap worn back-to-front, that's something he has noticed, he's been watching the kids in the park every day. They wear caps like that, with the visors round the back.

'Hi there!'

They're startled and stop. It's suddenly very quiet, the kind of silence you get when an ordinary noise ceases and your ears are forced to listen out. Maybe he should've done an accent, like he was from down south. He's good at accents and some of them pay more attention. It sounds important somehow. Three days he spent collecting local voices. People here don't have a southern accent. Or a northern one; folk are into proper Swedish in this place. No drawly vowel sounds, nothing like that, not much slang either. A bit boring, actually. He fiddles with his cap. Turns it right round, pushes it down more firmly over the back of his neck, still back- to-front.

'Hi there, kids. You allowed out this late?'

They look at him, then at each other. Ready to move off. He tries to relax, leaning lightly against the back of the bench. What's it to be? An animal? A squirrel, or a rabbit?

Or a car? Or even sweeties? He shouldn't have wanked. He should've prepared himself better.

'We're going home, if you must know. And we are allowed to be out this late.'

She knows she mustn't talk to him. She has been told not to talk to grown-ups who're strangers.