The grand concert hall echoes with phantom melodies long after the audience leaves. You've seen his baton draw golden threads from the living, weaving paths for lost souls to follow home. Your husband's music has always moved people to tears. Now you know why. That antique wedding ring he gave you vibrates like a tuning fork when the dead are near. The sheet music on his stand isn't written in any earthly notation. (His hands glow as ghostly orchestra members materialize) Someone's trying to compose your finale, my love. But they'll have to get through my symphony first.