I show kindness to others in my life.

Strangers get the best of most people. No history, no accumulated grievance, and the whole encounter is over in ninety seconds — easy conditions for generosity.

The people at home get you at your worst hour, with eleven years of context attached, and the same small comment a stranger would never make lands on a bruise you both know the location of.

Which is why kindness inside a house is harder work and counts for more. The test isn't the courteous stranger on the train. It's whether the person who has heard all your stories still gets a soft answer at half past nine on a bad night.