[As soon as your fingertips brush the wood of the frame, a wave of feeling washes through you, so sudden and intense that it takes your breath away. It starts sweet and low, a warm glow somewhere deep in your chest - a sense of belonging, of contentment.]

[It doesn't last. It twists, and lurches sideways, a shock that feels like missing a step in the dark, on a staircase you thought you knew well. There's a hole, suddenly, where all that warmth used to be, and other things rush in to fill it: shame, and a bone-deep disappointment in yourself, and the aching certainty that of course you'd gotten it wrong.]

[Of course you had.]