Swing Under the Tree at Dusk

The village was demolished, but no one dared to touch the old swing. The children said that there is often an old man with white hair sitting on it at dusk, swaying slightly, as if waiting for someone. Later, the old man's granddaughter came and told her that when grandma was young, it was on this swing that grandpa confessed his love to her and promised not to leave the village for the rest of his life. After grandpa left, grandma came to sit for a while every evening. The granddaughter sat on the swing, gave it a gentle push, and shed tears - the old swing creaked, as if saying for her grandfather, I am here.