Taurus

The thing your shoulder has been trying to tell you for weeks is not about your shoulder. It is about the way you have been holding yourself through a particular kind of day, the small brace you put in place somewhere around mid-morning that never quite releases. Your knee knows about the commute before your brain admits the commute is the problem. The headache that arrives every Tuesday has mapped something about Tuesday that you have not yet let yourself see. What feels like betrayal by your own frame is usually your frame being the first to name what needs naming.