He took off his earmuffs but didn’t put them away. Mark and I sat at opposite ends of a long coffee table, in the living room, and his parents sat on the couch. ![]() On the day I visited, he was wearing a maroon plaid shirt, a blue baseball cap, and the kind of sound-deadening earmuffs you might use at a shooting range. He’s thirty years old, and tall and trim. ![]() The son has asked me to identify him only as Mark, his middle name. I pressed as gently as I could, and, when the door opened, I was greeted by a couple in their early sixties and their son. I deduced that the button had been taped over at some point but was now safe to use. Then I noticed two ragged rectangles of dried, blackened adhesive on the door frame, one just above and one just below the button.
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