And I crouched down.

I did it before I decided to.

I crouched down on my own front step in front of a boy I have known his whole life and I looked at his face and I said, “Hello, Iggy.

How are you doing today?”

And he said something about a lizard.

And his mother said, “Sorry, am I in the way?”

And I said, “No. Not at all. Carry on.”

And I stood up.

I do it every time now.

Every single child, every doorway, for four years.

It takes about four seconds and it has never once been necessary and it is not going to stop being necessary, because the one time it was necessary I did not do it, and a record of what people said turned out not to be a record of what happened.