Carol polished the keys of her new baby grand. It was the sort that could play a number of tunes for itself.
She’d bought it at an estate sale. The previous owner had been a great pianist in his prime, his skill butchered by arthritis setting in his fingers. Carol was fond of playing herself and vowed to use her fingers on the instrument while she could. She tapped a few notes of “Greensleeves” and went about her chores, the song still playing in her head, until it wasn’t.
Carol whipped around, recalling she hadn’t switched the piano to auto.
Author’s Note: As a child, I loved going into lobbies and seeing pianos play themselves. As I aged though, I wondered how easy it would be for ghosts to take over without anyone knowing.