Short Stories with Tragic Endings

I am in my high school's band room. It is a night-time practice during marching
season but we are inside working on music. For some reason I do not have my
saxophone. Instead of just sitting there doing nothing, I am helping the pit. Jill
is having trouble so I go over to help her and I look at the keys on the marimba.
From a distance, it looks completely joined and glassy. At a closer view, however,
the keys are obviously separated, as they should be, but there is no progression
in size. The size of the keys are all random and non-sequential. They should
gradually become smaller, the closer to the right side of the instrument they
come. This is not the case. The marimba should not even play correctly. Somehow,
it does. I go and check the other marimbas across the room and notice that the
letter names for the notes are etched into the keys. I find octave C's, play them,
and show Jill. She gets the orientation and begins working on the music. All the
while, the rest of the band is playing the show. Then my crush comes over to help
Jill with the music. I hug her and the dream ends.