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“Your cup just moved on its own!”
“I shook the table, babe.” Jay squeezes Sam’s hand.
Henrietta’s skittish niece makes goo-goo eyes at her indulgent husband, and Henrietta scoffs. “Samantha, there are no ghosts in this house!”
“Right, Aunt Hetty.” Sam petrifies, and all whimsy leaves the parlor as the three of them reflect.
Henrietta recently attempted to become the mansion’s only ghost. Her sweet niece and her kind-hearted husband would have still come around to tidy the old empty place, but they’d only know her as rattling dishware. A lonely, invisible existence; she supposes she’s glad she avoided it.
