When the room went dark, she heard her name.


“Anna?”


It was David, her husband, calling from the kitchen. The power had gone again; their house did that more often lately. She lit a candle, shielding its small flame from her breath, and went to find him.


He stood by the counter, glancing up as she entered, a towel in his hand, drying a glass. His calm presence grounded her, as it always had.

“Fuse again,” he said. “I’ll check it later.”


When the lights flickered back on, Anna froze.


The sideboard - a heavy oak piece that had stood against the same wall for twenty years - was now angled toward the window, as though someone had dragged it across the floor. A chair near the table was slightly crooked, one leg resting unevenly on the edge of the rug.

“David,” she whispered, “why is this here?”



He stepped closer, frowning. “That’s how I found it,” he said. “I thought you moved it - maybe to clean?”


“I… I didn’t,” she said.


Together, they pushed the sideboard back into place. Its legs scraped the floor, louder than she expected, sending a chill down her spine.


David looked at her, reassuring. “Honey, no ghost can shift this. Maybe you did and forgot?”


Anna nodded, uncertain. She was sure she hadn’t moved it. Strange things were happening -things she couldn’t explain, stirred by a presence only she seemed to feel.