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"Alfred, where did you say you had the keys?"
She would fondly inquire, her eyes scanning around. " I'm not sure, just look around i might have misplaced them"  he would reply, scratching his memory from his forehead. Surprisingly, they would share a faint laugh; it was an everyday ritual, a morning memory exercise. He would then go ahead and brush his shoes, his faith in her ability to find a grain of sand in  an ocean was rock solid.

Meanwhile, in the evening a familiar masculine voice echoed through the evening airwaves,  Fele".....  "Fele",  fondly calling out the shortened version of "Felester". She would then signal her location, where pleasantries and daily  accounts took hold. Though we heard it countless times, but it felt intimate each day. For us, it was a testament of connection beyond marital dogmatic principles. It wasn't a norm for parents in our setting to use first names. 

Through the sands of time,  it became second nature. Their affection was natural,  their love profound, the conversations were fluid and their connection was deeply admirable. 

A couple of winters later,  i searched for the formular that explained the power in a name. I sought the ingredients that sparked the charm, the missing piece to the puzzle, having exhausted all sweet endearments - Honey, Chocolate, Sweetie - in a search for a pronoun that would speak life into our withering chemistry. 

On one golden morning, when the sun danced with the clouds, birds sang beethoven and winds softly whispered in my ears,  i had an epiphany. I stumbled upon  golden knowledge, and in that moment i realized: It wasn't in the names, nor the gifts they shared. It was mundane yet profound - their  ability to find each others soul through communication.

Is this the formula or simply my retrospective perspective? Well, try it and....
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