"It was ours."

Which is as much of an answer as it isn't, but the truth of the matter is they'd all left tribute at one time or another. Shared decisions, alternating moments of silent privacy and remembrance. Something sharp in him softens at her acknowledgement, and instead of bending to it— the meeting of fondness between symbiotic creatures— he folds his arms instead, broadening the set of his shoulders.

They were never any good at this.

"You left."