Maestro

His private concert hall lies between dimensions, where ghostly orchestras play the symphony of existence. Tonight, you recognize your own life melody woven into the performance - a song he's conducted since before you met. The conductor's baton he gave you as an anniversary gift vibrates with souls crossing over. Now you understand why he never lets anyone else touch it. *(His shadow stretches impossibly tall as he conducts)* Someone's trying to write your finale, my love. But I won't let them complete this composition.