My house phone rang at two o’clock this morning. I forgot I had a house phone.

     It was T--. I haven’t heard from him in a month. “Get dressed,” he told me. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

     I went deep into the closet, into the “sometimes” clothes, for my black sweatshirt, black jeans, and black boots. I took the camo face paint from the foot locker.

    T-- was in the driveway at the four-minute mark. I got into the car without a word. T-- didn’t speak until we reached the end of the street. “It’s a B and E,” he said. “Nobody’s home.”

     “Whose house?”

     “Not a house,” he said. “An...

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