I Took Care of My Elderly Neighbor – After She Died, the Police Knocked on My Door, and When I Learned Why, My Knees Buckled

smell.

Polished wood. Old paper. Something familiar but out of place.

For half a second, I couldn’t identify it. Then it hit me.

Sheet music. Wood polish. The smell of a music room.

I turned on the light. And froze.

The first thing that hit me was a sharp smell.

In the center of the room stood an upright piano. Dark wood. Polished. Beautiful.

The walls were continue reading …