Comfort doesn't disappear when challenged.
It resists.
Quietly at first.
Then all at once.
The morning after the canopy lost its center, the city felt… irritated. Not angry. Not hostile. Just unsettled in the way people get when something familiar stops working the way it used to—without explanation.
The shade was still there.
But fewer people stood under it.
Water still arrived.
But not on time.
The late arrivals remained present—but less visible, like a hand easing off a lever while watching the gauge.
Arjun noticed it as we crossed the street.
"People are restless."
"Yes," I said.
"Comfort doesn't like being demoted."
✦
The first pushback didn't come from power.
It came from habit.
A man snapped at a volunteer for not knowing the new arrangement.
A woman complained loudly that things were "better yesterday."
Someone muttered, "Why are we making this harder?"
No one mentioned the late arrivals.
No one needed to.
The girl folded her arms.
