I have to tell you why I put the old piano into storage. Often times late at night it would be playing itself. We’d wake up at one in the morning to a Chopin or Mozart or someone else’s concerto playing from the thing. And it couldn’t have been the invisible man or a ghost because the keys weren’t moving. Just the sound of music coming from an unused piano.
I figured then that the piano itself must somehow be alive. Because less than a month after sticking it in our storage unit we woke up at two in the morning on Saturday and there the thing was, at the food of our bed. Playing louder than ever. It wouldn’t stop until both my wife and I got on our knees and begged it to stop playing and begged it to forgive us for putting it away.
From then on we simply had to endure the late night concerts.