Virgo
...because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Slaughterhouse-Five
Your stomach knows before your head does when something has changed between you and someone else. The conversation still runs on its old tracks, but there is a small tension in your shoulders when their name appears on your phone, a pause before you answer that was not there before. What your gut registers is not the relationship ending but the relationship becoming something different while you both pretend it has stayed the same. The birds are still singing, but you are listening to them now in a way you were not listening before, and that listening is information about what has already shifted.