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The hole was large enough that she needed a patch. She was meticulous, taking her time, piercing the fabric with the needle, threading it securely. She held up the garment to examine her handiwork. The patch was among four she had sewn in the past week. He hadn't told her why he kept coming home in shredded clothes. She didn't expect him to confide in her, she didn't need him to. She already knew and that was enough.