I nod weakly. I have a complicated relationship with my hypnotizing eyes. They are the reason I was scouted as a kid, tempted with a Nickelodeon show, only to have it snatched away by my draconian academic parents. I will never forgive them for denying me the chance to become a starlet. I’m starting to think it’s better to not attract attention, which seems to invite only disappointment—at least in my experience.

“So, what do you do that lets you be in a bar in the morning?” Cinnamon asks me.

I eye the clock behind the bar. “It’s three seventeen.”

She just looks at me absently, no light behind her eyes. I wonder what she is on. A downer, obviously. Ketamine. Xanax. Maybe opiates. Whatever it is, she doesn’t seem happy. She is projecting the opposite of what I want to project. She is so helpless and doughy. Real I’m baby energy. Late at night when a predatory bro grabs her ass, she never reacts or even seems to notice, and if she does it is only to unleash a breathy giggle. I prefer the dancers with chutzpah, with sauce, a violent attitude, who will slap the bro’s hand, at least make him work for it. But not Cinnamon, who’s happy to give her shit away for free. She is just goo-goo-ga-ga-ing her way through life. It’s revolting.

“I’m an astrologer,” I say, mostly to give voice to my experience. I spend so many hours alone, inside, typing, opening and closing the venetian blinds, refreshing websites, typing, refilling my glass of water, refilling Lydia’s water, eating slices of turkey with the fridge open. I want someone to confirm that I exist. Obviously this downer-ed babydoll is not my ideal audience, but at this point anyone who acknowledges me will do.

“Coool,” she coos, leaning on me a bit, as if she’s too weak to hold herself up on her own. I move back to establish a boundary, and she almost falls over. “Read my chart?” she asks as she steadies herself on the bar.

Ever since astrology became my job, there has always been that edge of annoyance when someone asks me for a reading. It’s like demanding a joke from a comedian. But it also puts me at ease. I never quite know my purpose in a social situation, so I enjoy having a task. And astrology gives me one that’s just the right amount of challenging. It’s like rolling a pair of dice, receiving a random set of information, and being forced to make a coherent pattern out of it. It calls for equal parts analysis and creativity; it is both a science and an art. We use the sun to tell time and the moon controls the tides, so it’s not outrageous to think the planets would impact who we are.