The night made several promises it had no authority to keep. By the time Blue Hour Homecoming begins, the music has faded, the charm has worn thin, and home is looking considerably more attractive than it did a few hours ago.

Returning is not the same as retreating. Sometimes it is the moment when performance ends and the self no longer has to be entertaining, polished, or understood. Home waits without applause, but it also asks for nothing—and after a long night, that can feel like mercy.