That white van’s been across the street for days, he said. Just parked there. Nothing wrong with it that I can see, he told his wife. A train whistle blew. The sun was rising. I wonder if anybody is inside of it, he peeked through the blinds. You know, F.B.I. or C.I.A.. Maybe it’s the Russians or Chinese. Could be Arabs. Maybe ANTIFA. The president warned us. Porchlights up and down the street were being turned off.

Let it go, she said. You’re talking crazy, she told him. The train chugged along on the steel tracks. It came to a stop. Brakes could be heard throughout the neighborhood. C.I.A. F.B.I.. she shook her head. You’re nuts.

You don’t know, he said. You don’t. The train started rolling again. Slowly. Picked up speed. Continued to the next town. You don’t think it could be Russian or Chinese spies? Now, who’s the crazy one?