The old man sat at the piano, his fingers gliding over the keys with ease. He had been playing for hours, lost in the music and the memories it brought back. Memories of his wife, who had passed away years ago.

As he played, he felt a chill run down his spine. He turned around, expecting to see nothing but the empty room. But there she was, standing behind him. His wife, as beautiful as ever, but now a ghost.

He gasped, but she smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He felt her lips, soft and warm, and then she was gone.

The old man sat there for a moment, stunned. Had it been real? Or just his imagination?

He shook his head and turned back to the piano. But as he played, the music changed. It became darker, more somber. And then he was no longer in his living room, but on a battlefield.

His friend lay on the ground, bleeding. The old man rushed to his side, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. His friend died in his arms.

The old man wept, his heart heavy with grief. But then the scene changed again, and he was in his living room once more.

He looked up to see his son playing with a toy horse. The old man smiled, remembering how he used to ride horses with his wife when they were young.

He walked over to his son and handed him the toy horse. “Here, you can ride it,” he said.

The boy grinned and took the horse, riding it around the room. And then, as the old man played the final note on the piano, his son joined in, playing the last few notes on his toy horse.

The old man smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. He knew that his wife was still with him, watching over him and their son. And he knew that, no matter what happened, their love would always endure.