Your way of leaning into the door and your running thread of thought sit on opposite banks of the same axis. Mercury, the inner voice that sorts and comments without pause, stands across from the threshold where you appear to others in your chart. Arrive in silence and something inside tugs, dying to speak. Come in talking and the first skin asks you to shut up and listen to the one in front of you. The two ends call each other to account at every meeting, and the other person hands you back your own words before you have had a chance to polish them. You live in the strain between how you present and what the mind keeps muttering, learning not to turn each hello into a debate.