My contents must have shifted something fierce during transit. I remain unsettled; a faint dust of ill-ease clings to me and refuses to budge. I need to be enveloped, but not smothered, in a protective, trusted coccoon of warmth, but I know I wouldn't recognize it even if such a thing came along. And worse yet, I'd probably try to kill it and then run like hell. I'm funny like that.