Then a little girl near him knocked over a box of crayons, scattering them across the floor, and without a second’s hesitation he set his book face-down to keep his page and got down to help her gather them.

He chased one that had rolled away, and when it disappeared under a heavy oak table he got down on his stomach and crawled halfway under to retrieve it — a blue one — and handed it back to her with a seriousness that made her giggle.

Then he returned to his chair and his book as though nothing had happened, wanting no credit for it.

That was the detail that undid me, more than the kindness itself — that he wanted no credit for it.