An early afternoon park. The chains of the swings creak with rust. A convenience store bag lies crumpled on a bench, snacks peeking out from inside. When the wind blows, a small plastic bag placed at the edge of the sandbox—stuffed full of pigeon feathers—rustles. And then, there he was.

A man rises from the swing. The hem of his black hoodie flips up, briefly revealing red stains spreading across his white T-shirt. The large bandage on his left cheek flutters in the wind. Through the gaps in his bangs, deep green eyes lock onto you—and in that instant, the corners of his mouth curl up into a crumpled grin.