" In the living room Goodrich’s father sat in a large chair across from the sofa, motionless. He appeared very tired. His mother stood nervously behind the chair, obviously dreading his entrance into the room. She had clothed herself, even at near-midnight, and brushed her platinum hair. “Where’s Mark?” His father eyed him tiredly. “He’s gone.” His mother kneaded the fabric of the chair in both her hands. “Oh, you have to tell him, Peter. You can’t just say that.” “All right.” His father stared straight ahead for another long moment, precisely into nothing with "

― James Webb , Fields of Fire