For the days you've been keyed-up and gripping since dark, like the all-night pull of Kabukicho that won't let your hands rest.

A red unclenching toward warm, black-rimmed. It has the heat just off a flame and the dry bite of pepper.

Staying keyed-up can feel like staying ready; mostly it just keeps the grip locked. It calms nothing for you — it holds a place in the restless bright where the hold can finally let go and the hands can rest.