In the back walls of the mansion, you could hear the soft, deliberate surrusuration of scratching on the wood, but only before the clopping of a maid’s thin-heeled shoes had resounded through the hall, covering the scratching with a layer of her own noise. She carried a silver tray of caviar and whiskey. It was not the preferred meal of choice for the young man, but it reminded him that he was in control of his private life. His sister had abandoned the House long ago and she had always planned the dining. The maid would bring the tray to the small table at the young man’s bedroom door, ring the small bell, and leave. She made sure to never disturb the young man. He was more than a little unpredictable once he was disturbed.

        The food had been eaten and the dishes had been cleaned. Suddenly, a clamour began. Doors and cabinets throughout the House opened and shut of their own accord. As was his practice, the artist rushed to the piano and began to depress each key with the gentleness of a baby bird. It began as a sweet tune, but as the noise grew louder and increased in tempo, it became a furious and dynamic beat. Bang bang bang. It acted as a metronome to the artist’s song. Just like a metronome, it governed the musician’s movements. He followed the movement of the doors song, faster and faster, until the banging gave up as suddenly as it began. The artist rang a shrill note as if to laugh at the relinquished attempt.