A winter wind blows through the open window, cold fingers wind their way through the house. Feet shuffle, noses sniffle as the cold air is joined by warm bodies. The nightly ritual has begun; exhaled breath turns solid. Everyone's in place, ears strain to hear the faint ticking sounds emanating from ahead and eyes look to their ritualistic spot. All wait as hands move towards their destination when they will become as one. Twelve bellows pierce the silent night and all eyes look to the empty spot. There are murmurs of approval as bodies shuffle back to bed.

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