In the morning, the townhouse at 3 Platanova Street smelled of pancakes and wet grass. Nela opened the window of her room and looked out into the courtyard. Mrs Hania was sitting on a bench with a blanket on her lap, and a yellow-striped ball was rolling next to the sandpit. The leaves of a large chestnut tree rustled quietly. - 'Good morning, world,' whispered Nela, stretching like a cat. Then she heard something even quieter, as if someone had blown into a bottle. Only this sound had words. - Hello... Nelo... - whispered the wind from under the windowsill itself. - Get up, get up, it's time. The girl sat up straight. - Who is it? - she asked, looking around as if someone was hiding behind a curtain. The wind trembled slightly and brushed her cheek. - It's me. Wind. You can finally hear me. Nela looked at her hands. Nothing had changed. There were still three freckles on her nose. One of them seemed to flash. - Mum! - she called out through the door. - Can the wind speak? - Er... only when it whistles - laughed mum from the kitchen. - And you brush your teeth! Nela brushed her teeth so quickly that the toothpaste still smelled of mint when she ran into the backyard. Olek was already waiting by the arbor. He had a rucksack that always creaked when he zipped it up. - Nela, there you are! - he waved. - Are we going to the park? Apparently there were new swans today. - Come on, but...' - Nela lowered her voice. - I have to tell you something. I can hear the wind. Olek opened his eyes wide. - Just like that? Is he talking? - I can hear him talking. He is talking to me. As if on cue, the wind blew their hats until Olek's hat tilted to one side. - Good morning, Olek - he murmured. - Cool visor. Olek touched the cap and choked with laughter. - Oh my! - he said. - Seriously, he's talking! Beneath the chestnut tree lay a soft puff of puffball. Nela crouched down and blew gently on it. The fluff curled but did not fly away. - Wind, will you help? - she asked shyly. - Please - the wind rustled and lifted the white fluff so that it soared and danced over the sandpit. The children watched in awe, and Mrs Hania smiled from under her blanket, although she probably thought it was a mere gust. - How do you know how to speak to him? - asked Olek in a whisper as they moved along the pavement towards the park. - 'I don't know. I just heard it this morning. As if someone had opened a little door in his ear,' replied Nela and touched a freckle on her nose, which sparkled slightly again. The city was waking up slowly. Tram bells rang in the distance. The neighbours' dog, Burasek, sniffed at the fence and wagged his tail. On the balcony, someone was watering the geraniums. - Watch out for the puddle! - whispered the water from the gutter, and Nela quickly jumped over the dark spot. Olek jumped over too, although he heard nothing but a splash. - He warned you, huh? - he guessed. - Yes - Nela nodded. - And I feel the wind has a thing for us today. As they turned into the lane leading to the park, the wind stirred their jackets again. - Nelo, to the right. Today not the swans, today the clock - he whispered. - What clock? - asked the girl. - The old one, by the fountain. What stands sometimes and sometimes not. 'Someone's waiting,' wailed the wind quietly, as if dragging a voice, and pulled at the sleeve of her jacket. The alley in the park was shady, full of birdsong and the smell of wet leaves. To the left stood a low wall, overgrown with ivy. On the right, the water in the pond shimmered. Leaves were falling and arranged in strange arrows, all pointing in one direction. - Look! - Olek pointed. - The arrows themselves. - That's how the wind arranges them,' said Nela, and the wind laughed briefly and swept away another arrow, this time from the golden maple leaves. In the square, by the old fountain, stood a tower with a clock. Once part of a larger pavilion, it was now lonely and a little crooked. The clock had two black hands and thin numerals. Birds liked to sit on its canopy. On this day there were three pigeons sitting in a row on the canopy, as if they were guarding something. - 'We never go near here,' reminded Olek, looking at the plaque: 'Do not climb'. - We won't climb - Nela reassured him. - We'll just walk up. Then a soft tone sounded from the tower, as if someone had touched the glass with a finger. The clock moved one hand. It vibrated and then stood still. Nela felt the freckle on her nose tingle. The wind brushed her hand. - Can you hear? - He asked. - Someone is calling out. Only you can hear it. Nela squinted and listened to what was between the sounds. There was something like drops on a leaf and like a feather falling. A soft little voice, thin as a hair. - Nelo... - called out something from under the canopy of the clock. - Nelo, quickly, please. Olek opened his rucksack and took out a torch, a small one with batteries. He liked to carry it "just in case". - Here," he handed Nela the torch. - I shine it, you listen. At the base of the tower, between the panels, was a small metal canopy. They remembered it. Usually it was locked with a padlock. Today the padlock was hanging, but it was open. The door swung open in the wind and rattled quietly. - This is not a coincidence,' whispered Olek. - I know," whispered Nela. The wind began to swirl around their ankles. It rustled like the sea in a shell. - Are you ready? - he asked. - Help was requested. Just take it easy. Inhale, exhale. Water sloshed from the fountain, as if clapping its hands. The pigeons raised their heads. One feather touched the hand of the clock, and it trembled again. - Who is there? - asked Nela, approaching the door. - Who are you? - Here - answered the tinny voice. - Inside. The light went out. Nela felt her fingers grow warmer. It felt like she was holding a cup of cocoa. Maybe it was the wind blowing them from inside. Maybe it was her power waking up stronger. - 'Wind, if something happens, help us,' she asked. - I will be beside you - the wind assured. - And remember, Nelo: speak softly to things. They like it when you talk to them. Olek nodded and raised his torch. The light danced on the metal, reflected in a small puddle and climbed up the bricks of the tower. The door squeaked open. Nela reached out her hand to the handle. Her freckle sparked, more clearly than before. Suddenly the clock chimed once, a second, a third - and the smallest hand twitched backwards, as if time had taken a step backwards. The wind held its breath, the leaves stopped rustling and the pigeons moved their wings as evenly as if someone was conducting them. - 'Now,' whispered the wind. Nela took a big breath in, tightened her fingers on the cool handle of the door and began to slowly swing it open....