I had spent years waiting for my father to tell me what I was allowed to do.

Even now the permission came from a machine.

I left the guitar on its stand and closed the recording window without deleting it.

The next morning Ruth had the estate inventory ready.

She checked my identification and turned the document toward me.

It listed the mixing desk, microphones, instruments, amplifiers, acoustic panels, and the other items.

The room was leased property.

My father could transfer the equipment he owned, but he could not make me the tenant simply by naming me in his papers.