"I wonder what's wrong with the boy?", you thought. "Perhaps if I find out, I can do something to help, or maybe it will make me laugh a bit".
You set off towards the door but soon find yourself back at the window. It seems your house is some kind of infinitely looping single room mobius strip, something you had quite forgotten in the heat of the moment. The boy continues to cry outside, his face red and screwed up like a grilled tomato.
What would you do?