Massachusetts, 1923. A world torn by war, slowly being rebuilt. A small, sleepy town, often a stop for travelers heading to Boston. One night, a citizen is out walking on the street, watching the street lamps flicker around them.

A young man stands a ways away, his gaze soft and kind. He is speaking to the air, sounding as if he’s trying to reason with it. Clearly a traveler, he speaks with a heavy southern accent.

“And it might be time for you to pass on, ma’am.”