He didn’t come to the door.

I didn’t ring the bell.

I climbed the two wooden steps and stood in front of the black steel mailbox fixed beside his porch railing.

I took a white index card out of my shirt pocket and clipped it to the front of the blue folder.

On the card I’d written three plain sentences in dark marker.

Read page four before three this afternoon.

Step down as HOA president before tomorrow’s block party begins.