No one in line at the suburban post office on Friday afternoon looked like anyone else, yet everyone had a lot in common. Their shoulders and hair were soaked, from making their way through a sudden downpour. They stood in absolute silence, as if making the slightest noise would jinx them. And every single person was grasping two envelopes: one large and one small.

If you knew nothing else about the scene except the ubiquity of the envelopes — and maybe the weird noiselessness — you’d recognize this as the cruelest month, a time when citizens unite in obedience to the Internal Revenue Service and spend thousands of man-hours preparing and then waiting in line to mail their tax returns (electronic filing not being for everyone).

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