In the day, the music next door would be Honey or the Xanders, drums and loud guitars. The overheard music has a similar rhythm. In the day, Albert might have wandered over and joined the party. In the day, his wife might have woken to suggest their own rock and roll session.
It isn’t the day. He’s old. Alone. His party days are long-ago memories.
He’d been copacetic at midnight; kids will be kids and the pill kicked in so he slept. But he’s unhappy now. It’s almost four o’clock. He’s calling the police.
In the day, this is how parties ended.