We lived in the second-floor flat of a small two-and-a-half-family house on a tree-lined street of frame wooden houses with redbrick stoops, each stoop topped with a gable roof and fronted by a tiny yard boxed in with a low-cut hedge.
Sometimes I would try and sit and play the piano after they had gone because it was a way of unwinding, but the funny thing was there were all these dummies lined up on the bed and it was slightly spooky playing to half-damaged dummies.
Half an hour later, Plank is in a black SUV, barreling down a winding tree-lined road outside of Baltimore, his stress seeming to peel away with every passing mile.