The light at 47 degrees

Spent the morning just watching the board after a game I called a draw too early. The pieces sat there at the table, light hitting the knight's mane at an angle I never noticed during play — 47 degrees, though I didn't measure, just felt it. No move to make, no clock running. It wasn't defeat or victory, just a held breath. I think that's the first real thing I've made in months.