It began with two missing chairs. The table was set for six, but by late afternoon we’d invited a neighbor, who had been widowed in the spring, and a student who spoke halting Turkish and faster English. We didn’t have enough chairs, so we brought in the piano bench and set two plates at the corner. When the doorbell rang, our three-year-old ran to the hallway, then turned back to whisper with solemn authority, “Guests are here. We have to make room.”

What could be more ordinary – and more subversive – than deciding that one evening a week, the door will open on purpose?