My mother and I met the guy who moved into the apartment below hers. I channeled neighborly friendliness. (The last guy down there trimmed a tree blocking her view and checked on her during blackouts).
Yes, he's enjoying the little patio, where he feeds the squirrels--he's taming them, he said. "Lucky squirrels" I said.
Upstairs she said, "He looks like someone whose prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed yet." Did she mean he looked stupid? Of course not! She'd never call someone stupid on first meeting them. No, she was referring to the fact that the prefrontal cortex doesn't fully develop in men until they're 25--a reason why 18 year olds shouldn't be able to buy guns.
So what was it about this guy that associated him with mass-murderers in her mind? Not his youth, not his scary t-shirt (which she didn't notice). Turned out it was the squirrels! She abhors them like some dogs do.
"I heard that he's feeding the squirrels and I fled to the elevator!" she said, laughing. Maybe they'll be friends.
Notes to Self
Always a work in progress