Blake Gribbin remembered little about his human life; many of his memories had disappeared along with the destruction of his physical body. However, one memory stuck with him, and it may have been the very reason he reappeared to his wife just weeks after his death.

The memory positioned itself as something of utmost importance; as the best day of his life and the start of their legacy together, the day of their wedding was a memory that wouldn't leave him, even after their physical separation.

Blake remembered Mandi's wild smile as she stood in her flowing indigo wedding dress, the waist accentuating her curves in a way he'd never known possible. Her skin was pale beneath it, but the pure winter around her tinted the tips of her long fingers pink. As she walked toward him—her arm linked with her father's—her brown hair twisted over her shoulders with the breeze, revealing the darker strands of violet and blue beneath and allowing for the sprinkling of January snow to tickle her breast, which was adorned a large black teardrop gem. Blake had grinned from ear to ear then, his face flushing hot. Tears pierced through his calm façade, and his arms sizzled anxiously—almost like they were asleep—as he waited for his bride to slowly make her way down the long aisle. She'd stopped to smell a lily that was clipped along the line of foldable chairs, though by then its fragrance had surely vanished; the winter cold stilled the soft petals of the white flower. He was sure she was stalling; she must have been nervous, too.

When she looked at him, his heart stopped. Not literally, of course. That happened a year later, during the accident.

But if he could've died from her absolutely angelic appearance that day, he would've. And if he'd known he could've returned to her after his demise, he would've willingly died every time he saw her—she was so beautiful.

Throughout their high school years, they never spoke to one another. Coming from two vastly different social classes, there was little chance for them to cross paths. Mandi had been the studious biology student, and Blake was the class clown with little to no academic talent. But sparks flew when they ended up going to the same university; they unknowingly both had a love for jazz, and so joined the jazz choir, where both were kicked out for consistently making the altos sharp and the tenors flat.

After that moment, they'd been inseparable. They weren't immediately attracted to one another, but once Blake saw the way her gold eyes sparkled when she couldn't stop herself from wheeze-laughing after Blake was excommunicated from the choir along with her, he knew she was the one for him. Isn't it strange that sometimes... you just know?

If Mandi could read her ghost husband's mind, she did. As he reminisced about the one vivid memory he held dear to his transparent heart, she whisked her way across the small living room to the baby blue electric gramophone and set the plastic needle over a shrunken vinyl.

"Tea for Two" by Ella Fitzgerald crumbled into the quiet space and Mandi twisted the volume knob until the room was filled with the full sound of horns and the soft tapping of drums.

Mandi whipped around when Ella started singing, her brown hair in knots about her head as she took steps in time with the drums. Her fuzzy blue pajama pants swished voluptuously around her legs and her red-painted toenails squished in the mauve carpet as she shook her body in his direction. Her eyes peeked over round frames that slid down her nose with each jolt of her shoulders, and she mouthed the words to Ella's charming swing song.

Picture me upon your knee
Just tea for two and two for tea
Just me for you and you for me alone
Nobody near us to see us or hear us

No friends or relations on weekend vacations
We won't have it known, dear
That we own a telephone, dear

Mandi snapped her fingers along to the beat and skittered her way over to Blake, who was still sitting on the couch, enjoying how lively she was even though it was still fairly early in the morning.

She waved a hand at him, beckoning him to join her, perhaps knowing that he wouldn't be able to refuse the playful glint in her eyes.

He leaped from the couch and shook his hips and elbows, copying her movements. Soon, they were in sync as the song continued.

Day will break and I'll awake
And start to bake a sugar cake
For you to take for all the boys to see
We will raise a family

A boy for you, a girl for me
Oh, can't you see how happy we would be?

The couple pressed their hands together and rocked back and forth, foreheads angled toward each other so they could look into the other's eyes.

They both smiled at each other as the song continued, and it was as though an unspoken understanding passed between them. The song was one they often listened to and joked about as newlyweds who were nowhere close to ready for kids, and now it was impossible for them to ever dream of raising children together. Still, the feeling threaded mutually between them, and Blake's heart stirred in his ghostly chest.

He pulled her in close, relished how he imagined her body might feel in his arms—warm, small, alive—and they both stopped dancing as the music carried on.

After a few moments, Mandi pulled back to look at her husband, her eyes moist from silent tears. A smile tugged her lip as she turned from him, lowered the volume on the record player, and coaxed him back to the couch.

"We always said we weren't ready," she sighed, laying across his legs. He watched her eyes trail along the far wall, then up to the ceiling, and finally flit to meet his gaze. She was so beautiful, with her hair in bunches around her head and her eyelashes catching the fluorescent light from the chandelier above. "But now we don't ever have to be."

"You don't want kids?" Blake asked, brushing a strand of her hair from her forehead.

"No," she laughed, her eyebrows tugging inward. "Not everyone should be a parent. More than anything, I'm relieved that my parents won't be breathing down my back about it anymore."

Blake leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, catching the slight change in her skin tone from ivory to pink. Before backing away, he nuzzled her nose and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"You'd be an amazing mother," Blake said. Mandi pursed her lips.

"You'd be a fantastic father," she laughed back. "Maybe in another life, we can have kids. But for now, I'm fine growing old with my handsome, never-aging husband to keep me company. Will you be sad that in about ten years I'll be all wrinkly and old?"

Blake poked her forehead playfully and she made a cute noise of disapproval.

"You always have and always will be the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on," he said, squinting his eyes at her as he stuck his lips out.

As "Tea for Two" faded out and Ella's infamous "You Do Something To Me"—the song the Gribbins had used for their first dance—began, Mandi smiled up at Blake, her lips parting.

She sang slightly sharp, and Blake joined in, slightly flat, but to each other, they sounded perfect.

If Mandi was happy with their situation, Blake would be too. He'd selflessly devote his nonliving existence to her, as she devoted hers to him.

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