Sagittarius

Anika hates being asked when her birthday is.

Anika despises the question “When is your birthday?” 90% of the time, when someone asks her that question, it is to determine her star sign (Sagittarius). After that, it is used against her. Any time she finds herself emotional or upset, the response is always, “Well, that’s because you're a Sagittarius.” Under her breath, she’d mutter, “No, it’s because you’re a jerk.”

Today is her birthday, and she awakens to an aggressive thunderstorm. Beautiful, she thinks.

Anika steps into the pelting rain, allowing it to smash her skin. She enters the coffee shop, with its worn sign and bored workers. The punk teenager greets her with a grunt. “Today is my birthday, can I please get the free latte?”

“That’s cool and all, but when is your death day?”

Anika takes a small step back. “What?”

“I said, cream or sugar,” he responds with an eye roll.

“None,” she says.

As she waits, a slight woman enters with her black hood drawn over her head. Anika glances up, and the woman stares at her as she orders. Anika is pretty sure she doesn’t blink.

She walks over and asks, “When is your death day?”

“What?” Anika asks, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

A tinkle of laughter escapes her lips. “I said, today is your death day.”

Suddenly, Anika’s chest bursts into pain, and she falls to the floor. The woman leans over her. “Are you a Sagittarius?” are the last words Anika ever hears.

Word Count: 250