Dan Auerbach, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Au-er-bach: the growl of the throat reaching down three steps to the back of the windpipe. Au. Er. Bach.
He was Dan, plain Dan, in the morning, standing five foot ten in one sock. He was Niel in slacks. He was Danny at school. He was Daniel on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Dan.