One of the few things I remember is being afraid of talking to new people; I can distinctly remember being too afraid to answer the phone in my own home until the age of thirteen, yet at one point in what I shall call for the sake of ease 'my life', a situation arose which required that I be stood in front of a stranger's door. I could see my hand knocking on the door, but not feel it. Perhaps this was from re-living such an old fear, that I was clinging on to it too tightly, unwilling to let my last memory escape me. Or maybe this is just how life is now.
I admit I worry less. Less to worry about.
The door flew open with such energy that I flinched and jump back, proving my reactions must have been good once. A boy bounced into the door frame with such clear enthusiasm I almost laughed (which would of course have been incredibly inappropriate, given the reason for my visit). He was small, around my height, with an impish face, a shock of red hair and black rectangular glasses remarkably similar to my own. He dressed like he hadn't bought clothes in years and, I thought as I quickly assessed the building surrounding me, seemed highly likely.
I also noticed had the expression of a puppy at Christmas, sheer excitement and enthusiasm as a new squeaky toy appeared.
Previous to this encounter, I had been under the impression that one discusses the reason for their trespass at the door, so that the individual living there has the opportunity to decline any unwanted business, however this household convention seemed to have escaped the knowledge of Hanna Cross.
To prove this to me, upon opening the door, he leapt into the air as a kangaroo would before landing firmly and performing a spectacular bow whilst pulling the door as far as it would open and lowering his head and keeping hold of the handle.
Me, not being used to this peculiar social greeting, was unsure exactly what was happening. So, for a few moments I simply stood, and stared.