Alan frowned, looking out the window through the wispy white curtains. He had been living in this house for close to one hundred and seventy years, and not even half of it had been spent with real, living people. But, apparently, it seemed that someone was moving into the large, two-story colonial that had once been his home. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that... Hearing someone entering through the front door, he sank through the second-story floor to the bottom one, and he leaned on the foyer's wall to spy on the people. Of course, they couldn't see him. Not many living people could, and only once in his existence as a ghost had he known someone that could see him. Dearest Anabel... Would this newcomer be nice? Angry? Would they spend long nights shouting at one another, until someone ran screaming from the room or someone got hurt? All these thoughts invaded Alan's mind as the copper-haired boy looked at the newest batch of people to arrive at his home.