Joe fumbled with the keys in the lock and pushed open the front door with little care or delicacy. Smelling of wood, ash, wet wool, and leather, he looked and felt more like a young boy who had been out playing. Then his eyes latched onto the recumbent form of Pearl sleeping and he froze, suddenly fully conscious of noise. He looked at the crown of her head and his eyes carried on, down the lythe expanse of her - that was not for boys. He silently smirked. She was his wife. Taking a risk, he knelt down and tenderly kissed the tress of curls.