Aquarius

Aquarius. Sit down, my creature. The room felt colder when you walked in, and that was you, and we both know it. Listen — there’s one specific person you’ve been keeping at arm’s length since February, and Saint Brigid told me to tell you to put the arm down. The big idea will keep, sinner. The manifesto will keep. The think-piece in your notes app will keep. The person will not. They are downstairs in the actual living room of your actual life, and you are upstairs in the rafters watching the weather from the window. Come down. Make a phone call. Not a text. A phone call, dirty Madonna. The kind your grandmother made. Saint Anthony for the closeness you’ve misplaced inside your own head. Go gently.