Clear dining room table

As Cherie busies herself in the kitchen, you drift into the dining room. The room, like all the others is a clutter of unpacked boxes and scattered papers, a halfway arranged furniture. Focusing your thoughts, you set to work, attempting to clear the table. Curiously, nothing happens until you actually move over to the table as if you were physically there. With intense concentration, the stuff begins to shift. Boxes and papers are neatly stacked and moved to the side, the tabletop now pristine and ready for use. You feel slightly tired from the effort, something that doesn't seem to make sense considering you really don't have a body to get tired.

Unaware of your presence, Cherie enters from the kitchen, carefully carrying two steaming bowls into the dining room. As she enters, she takes a moment to survey the space, her eyes widening in surprise at the cleared table. A mixture of relief and curiosity plays across her features, and she sets the bowls down with a gentle clink.

As she does, Abella appears in the doorway, her steps light and her expression curious. She glances at the table, her eyebrows raising in a playful arch. "Someone's been busy," she remarks, her tone laced with amusement.

Her mother turns to her, smiling. "Good morning, Sweetie. Thank you for clearing off the table," she says, her voice filled with gratitude. "It's so nice to have a clean space to start the day."

Abella shakes her head. "Wasn't me," she replies with a shrug. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Maybe it was the ghost."

Cherie laughs, the sound light and slightly ****, as if trying to dispel the lingering unease. "Very funny," she responds, her tone dismissive yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. She calls out that breakfast is ready and goes back into the kitchen to get more bowls as the others make their way into the dining room.