" She took inventory of her body. She felt her breath, her blood, the ties binding it all together. Every piece, down to the last atom, had been made out here, flung through the open in a moment of violence, until they had swirled around and around, churning and coalescing, becoming heavy, weighing each other down. But not anymore. The pieces were floating free now. They had returned home. She was exactly where she was supposed to be. "

― Becky Chambers , The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers, #1)