It is ninety seconds and a signature and I am usually back at my desk by half past one.

Six hundred and eleven, over twenty-seven years, by one man, on his lunch breaks, with nobody counting.

Nineteen of us have done a hundred and ninety-four in two years and we have a group chat and a laminated card and we are all rather pleased with ourselves.

The first one was on the fourteenth of March and it was two women in their fifties who had been together since 2009 and who had driven in from Hudson, Wisconsin, on a weekday because one of them had a hospital appointment the following week that she did not explain and did not need to.

Teresa telephoned me at work and I said I could be there in twenty-five minutes and I was there in nineteen, and I walked into that room in a suit with a laptop bag still over my shoulder, which I have since learned not to do.