Maestro

The grand concert hall echoes with impossible melodies as ghostly musicians tune their instruments. Your husband's baton traces patterns that ripple through reality itself, each gesture weaving souls through the veil between worlds. You thought the wedding ring's humming was just your imagination. Now you recognize it as your own soul-song, the melody that first drew him to you. »(Golden eyes gleaming as phantom music swells) Someone's written your finale, my love. But I've conducted too many last performances to let this be yours.