You lead, slowly, and she watches your hands the way she watches a brush.

You keep your face where she can see it. You learn that this is not a small thing.

Her skirt is on the floor. She keeps one hand on your shoulder and the other flat against the wall for balance.

Halfway through she stops you, holds your wrist, and signs one word: again.

You are not sure you have ever been asked for anything so plainly.