Soon I’m walking to Subtropical every morning. The days are getting cooler, so it’s pleasant, and the endorphins energize me. I don’t see Beau for the first few days, but I don’t mind because I’m feeling alive and creative. I bring my laptop and begin making memes that are better and funnier than anything I’ve made in months. I post one that generates 70k likes— more than I’ve gotten in a year. It’s an image from Clueless where Cher Horowitz looks at the camera with judgmental eyes and says, “Do you see the distinction?” As a caption, I add, “A Virgo 12 seconds after vowing to be less condescending.”

The nice thing about posting Virgo memes is that no one attacks me in the comments. Virgos understand and accept their flaws, unlike most other signs, especially Geminis and Leos. My lilith—or dark side—is in Virgo, meaning I have the negative Virgo traits. I’m OCD, hypercritical, a control freak. It’s not great, but it’s also not the worst. Leo liliths tend to be pedophiles.

One morning at Subtropical I get an email from my BuzzFeed editor asking if I want to write an essay called “The Signs as Thanksgiving Dishes.” It isn’t an exciting topic, but I need the money.

I have to google Thanksgiving dishes on my laptop because I haven’t gone to a proper Thanksgiving in years and frankly food just doesn’t excite me. So I google away and, fine, maybe I browse some other listicles and become depressed by how many times this article has already been written. I scoffed when my mom said millennials had triggered the downfall of modern civilization, but at this moment I’m convinced she’s right.

Also, these other listicles have it all wrong. Virgo is not stuffing. The most extra, maximalist dish? And there is no humor in any of these articles. This is why I make the big bucks.

I open my Lisa Frank notebook and start making notes:

Taurus: Mashed potatoes. Comforting, classic, a BIT BLAND.

Libra: Cranberry sauce. Elegant, aesthetic, doesn’t even seem like a food.

Cancer: Pumpkin pie. Sweet, cozy, will ruin your digestion for days.

Sagittarius: Stuffing. Extra, just so so much, honestly wtf is this food even?

Aries: Turkey. Necessary, the most important, big dick energy.

I get distracted and start drawing hearts around “Aries” because it makes me think of Beau. I look up to see if he is here and am assaulted by a terrifyingly familiar face. I feel suddenly ill, violently nauseated, and not just because I am writing about vile foods and haven’t consumed anything all day except for black coffee.

It is Thomas.