Clara thought, I remember this room, right from when I was a little girl. Even down to music on the piano.” She sniffed the air. Only it smells musty. Aunt May would have never allowed that. The aged window creaked as she opened it.
A gentle breeze blew in to the room. As Clara, turned her back on it she suddenly heard the piano play. Spinning around Clara saw the net curtains billow across as the notes sounded again. Then she heard a ghostly voice.
Next day she phoned the agent. “Sorry. I have decided not to sell.”