The music crackles back to life, but it’s drown out by Zed’s angry shouting.

“Don’t have to,” he echoes, angry and mocking, before he flings the empty bottle of wine across the room. It shatters against the gramophone, which topples to the floor, an unruly cacophony. “He’s a person not an object. If you try anything, we’ll run away!”

“Monty! We can’t stay here! We have to go.” Zed sprints away from his mother, throws open the door to a side room and disappears.

His mother chases after. “Zedekiah, please. Keep your voice down. He’s not even awake, yet.”

That heavy side door stands open, and beyond the dim light of Peckenpaugh’s auditorium.