Before him, there was nothing to run her teeth up against. No ink, no metal, no razored skin. No 31 flavors. Just a lack of affection, bookended by a silence punctuated only by the sparest exchange of words.
And before him, those sparest of words were flat. Nothing contained within any number of letters or syllables to electrify her senses. And while the physics of sound remained unbent, so did the insignificance of that sound.
Before him, before the trinity of her was set afire, her life was a closed door.
All before him.
When he gave her passionate kisses.