A hand finds your knee under the table, a small private thing nobody else clocks, and your whole body settles a half inch into the chair. You were born with your Moon in the seventh house, the house of the other across the table and the agreement that needs two voices, so your heart gets fed in the company of someone close. You need a witness. You come back to yourself most fully through the eyes of a person who is paying real attention to you. That need is not a weakness, whatever you have been told, but it does leave a door open: presence and nourishment can look identical from across a room, and you can stay too long with the wrong company simply because it is company and the quiet alone frightens you more. Choose your inner two or three with the care you would give to choosing a doctor. The bond that calms your body just by being in the room is worth more than the one that only thrills it. Both can exist in a life. Only the first is a place you can actually live.