Sagittarius

Sag. Pilgrim. Pilgrim. I lit a Saint Christopher candle at the folding table this morning because I could feel you packing a bag in your head before your coffee was even down. Sweet thing — it’s Monday. Don’t book the flight. Don’t quit the thing. Don’t text the one who’s already cost you a Tuesday and a paycheck. Sit. Drink the coffee. Look at the actual room you’re in. Madonn’, you’ve got a whole life right there and you keep trying to swap it for a runway. Dimitri at the Wawa off Exit 88 says hi, by the way — he’s a Sag too, he gets it. Stay one extra hour today, my creature. The treasure’s in the boredom. Saint Christopher rides with you. Go in peace, sinner.