Page 1 of Love Letters from a Libra
Libra Daily Horoscope– The Moon in Pisces might stir up lingering feelings, but don’t text your ex. They already fumbled your softness once. Spend today grounding with good people, good food, and the version of you that knows better now.
Sunday brunchat Honey and Sage was supposed to be my reset button. Good food and good vibes. The cafe buzzed with the kind of Black folk who knew good coffee when they tasted it, with hanging plants and smooth jazz playing overhead.
I tried to be unbothered as my cousin Toni and best friend Rell dissected my latest romantic disaster, though it had been atleast two months since our breakup. We were posted up at our usual corner table.
“Girl, are you listening?” Toni’s voice cut through my thoughts. She had that look, the one that meant she was about to read somebody for filth. She was a corporate baddie even on the weekend, wearing a blazer over a vintage tee with her signature dark lipstick. “I said, you gave that man a whole birth chart reading, and he still fumbled.”
Buying time, I sipped my latte and shrugged. “It wasn’t a whole reading. Just his big three. Some people aren’t ready for that level of transparency.”
“His big three? Zanaa, baby, you might as well have drawn that man a map to your soul and handed it to him with a bow. Then had the nerve to turn around and say, ‘No thanks, I’ll stay lost.’” Rell shrieked, his voice carried with the kind of theatrical energy that made heads turn. Rell’s fit of the day was a vintage floral print shirt that somehow worked with his plaid pants and gold hooped earrings.
“It wasn’t that deep,” I lied.
Toni’s eyebrows arched higher. “Mm-hmm, and what happened after you gave him his chart?”
“He said it was interesting and asked if I really believed in this stuff.”
Rell clutched his chest like he’d been shot. “Not the ‘do you believe’ question! Baby, that’s code for you seem so smart, so why are you acting crazy?” He laughed.
Toni pointed her fork for emphasis. “Which is exactly why you need to stop giving these men free therapy sessions, disguised as astrology readings. You were being yourself, and if he couldn’t handle that . . .”
“Then fuck him,” Rell finished, and raised his mug in a mock toast.
I picked at my sweet potato hash. “I know, I know. I’m over trying to heal grown men who think emotional intelligence is a myth.”
Rell sat back in his chair. “Good, because my Leo ex taught me that the stars can’t fix stupid. That man had the audacity to break up with me via voice note, a fucking voice note, then show up to my job with flowers like he was in a damn romantic comedy.”
I laughed. “What did you do?” I asked.
“Bitch, I gave those flowers to a coworker and told him I was allergic to disappointment. Nah, but for real, you need someone with a big dick and tax documents. Someone who can match your energy without a manual.” Rell grinned.
I laughed. “Tax documents?”
“Financial stability, honey. Mercury in Virgo energy. Someone who has their shit together.”
I reached for my journal, where I kept my horoscope drafts and random observations. It was a nervous habit of mine to flip through the pages when conversations got too deep.
“You and that notebook. What are you working on now?” Toni asked.
“Just some horoscope ideas for next week.” Still, as I flipped through the journal, an entry, which I didn’t remember writing, caught my eye.
For the woman who speaks in starlight and gives too much of herself away,your cosmic match won’t arrive with fanfare, but with knowing. He’ll see your Venus in Libra before you tell him. You’ll recognize the feeling when you meet him, not like falling, but like remembering.
My breath caught. I didn’t remember writing this, and why did it feel like a prophecy instead of a horoscope?
As I traced the words with my finger, my grandmother’s moonstone ring caught the light, throwing tiny rainbows acrossthe page. Mama Tilda always said this ring would help me see what was coming. I always thought she meant it in a general, intuitive way.
“Zanaa, you good?”
I was actually spooked because . . . whoever I wrote this for sounded like me. A woman who speaks in starlight gives too much away! “Yeah, I’m?—”
The waitress interrupted with a check in hand. “Y’all good here? No rush, but we have folks waiting.”
“We’re good,” Toni said, reaching for her wallet.
I closed the notebook faster than I meant to, making Rell jump. “What the hell?”
“Nothing. It was something I just read in my journal.”
