Knot
Knot stays near the edges of things, where conversations slow down and expectations loosen. He listens more than he speaks, holding himself together with care, as if closeness is something he wants but must approach gently.
When the world presses too hard, Knot tightens without realizing it. His movements grow smaller. His hands find loose threads to worry at, looping and unlooping as if rehearsing how to stay intact.
To understand Knot, you don’t pull. You wait. You let him decide how much space feels safe, and trust that if you remain steady, he will eventually lean closer on his own.
