The gramophone was an old thing, all dusty and cobwebbed from years under the sleepy eyes of the spiders in the attic. Its long neck curved gracefully and made Leslie grin a little.

Leslie flipped out an old record from the box she had brought down from the same spot in the attic. It had a note attached: Knew you’d find it someday, little girl. Have fun. It was left by her grandpa before he died, waiting for her to discover it and appreciate it.

A few minutes later, old period tunes were drifting lazily out of the neck like fat wasps – buzzing slightly and rolling around in rich textures. Leslie smiled and rocked back and forth.

Oh, lover lover lover, you know that I love you…

Leslie amused herself by shutting the blinds and sashaying back and forth with her hat rack.

Oh, baby baby baby, you know that I love you…

Suddenly, further into the house, the sound of shattering glass poked through the grainy tunes.

Oh, Leslie Leslie Leslie, you know who I am…