In the bruised-purple bedroom, Harold (72) and Elena (54) kneel, rope-burned and paddle-marked. Braids, collar, sippy cup, duck blanket, Goodnight Moon surround them. “I’m only lovable when little,” she sobs. “When Daddy,” he chokes. Pull-ups, journal confessions: I’ll die mid-story. They make love—tears, Daddy, Harold braided. Aftercare: salve, shared sips, blanket-cape. Miso purrs. Tomorrow: burnt toast, crayons, rituals. They stay—leaky, creaky, little, big—choosing each other daily.