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After so many years of practice, so many nights trying not to wake children, they had no need for words anymore.
He saw her invitations at dinner in the way she tied up her hair and leaned in toward him. She could read his answer in his sideways glances, the breeze on the back of her neck.
Alone, they knew where to start by habit. They sensed where to go by labored breath and scraping nails. A well-worn path or a new exploration were all met with the same silent yes. All capped with the same nameless feeling of home.