For She Caught Death's Ear

 No matter who one claims to be or how high above the streets they claim they are, every man and woman on this earth is victim to the entrancing allure of jazz. None can resist the fluent brass arias; no man can avoid the air-shaking bass; no eyes can look past the flashing cymbals and flying drumsticks. As soon as you walk into the door, every fiber of your being is called into motion, leaving you swaying in your shoes. That delectable art has this way of leaving every being -- mortals and immortals alike -- vulnerable, open, and glad to be so.

Of all those terribly captivating sounds, though, none ring so true within me as the convicting melodies of the piano. One could almost lose themselves amidst the myriad beauties it constantly spawns. This has never hold more truth than that night, as my wife, my darling Dianne, sat behind the ivory keys. Her fingers of identical pallor graced each key they touched as if to kiss it. Her dulling, auburn hair was gossamer silk in the dim light of the club, and her eyes were spotlights illuminating my very soul.

In the forty years since we'd married, she never once sounded so magnificent; though these same words passed my lips after each performance I've seen. Just as always, I found myself falling in love with her all over again. Over sixty years had passed since she came into this world, and her beauty seemed fuller than ever.

The stars themselves couldn't have hoped to shine so bright as my darling Dianne. She outshines every last one of them, inside and out. I'm sure Rockefeller and Carnegie together could never hope to afford anything with a fraction of her worth. Never once have her eyes seen another man, and never mine any other woman.

I closed my eyes as her piano drowned out all other instruments. The saxophone and bass were washed away, while the drummer found himself a mere accompaniment to her magnificence. So many wonderful musicians were present, but they all knew as well as I who it was that all these people had come to hear.

I found myself in a swirling dream, rose-tinted with our undying love, of that day when I proposed to my darling Dianne. Rain had been coming down in sheets, bending trees and washing over the streets wave after wave. In the middle of it was a young, stupid couple, soaked to the bone. Neither of us had cared. I dropped to my knee, and held out the small, pathetic ring that I could just barely afford. Her sweet eyes had met mine with an answer that words need not accompany. Into my arms she had leapt, and in my arms she had stayed.

I opened my eyes only slightly, and noticed that everyone else at the tables around me were in a similar daze. No one could believe that any one person could possibly be both so beautiful and so talented. The entirety of the house was under her trance.

My eyes drifted across the audience beside me, falling on one person in particular. Standing in a back corner was a man in immaculate, stark white dress from head to toe. His shoes and fedora glowed with that same pure whiteness as his coat and pants. His face, however, was darker than the night outside. I peered and squinted, but all I could glimpse was the faint glint of his glasses. All else on his face was a sea of unchanging dark.

It pained me to look away from my darling Dianne for so long, but something about this spectator struck me as strangely familiar. It was almost as if I could feel his presence, a heavy sort of aura that seemed to weigh down even the blessed sounds of the piano. It began as nothing but a small inkling of a feeling, but it grew to an uncomfortable bother.

Lifting my eyes to my wife, I saw that her gaze was just as focused on the man in white; her normally calm, gentle eyes were now wide with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

This shook me from the trance of her music, something that had never happened even once before. I snapped my head back to look to the man, but his corner was empty. A slight panic set off within me as I began craning my neck, swiveling this way and that to catch sight of him, but to no avail.