Quiet can feel unfinished. A soft hour arrives and the mind starts tapping the bark for the larva that must be hiding under it.
An aye-aye has a worse tool and a better exit. It taps once. It listens. It jams a finger into a crack that is already empty. Then it backs down the trunk, scrambles one body-length with empty hands, and leaves some bark unread.
If calm only counts after you have proven nothing is wrong, the investigation becomes the damage. Stop the second tap. Leave an empty crack empty. Move without auditing the surface. The quiet can finish itself.
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