It was loud in there that evening, raucous. I had to shout to be heard, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, I think you’re cute and I want to know your sign.”
I looked around for someplace to set my beer and wound up handing it to her to hold. Rolling up my shirt sleeve I showed her my hourglass tattoo.
“No,” she shouted, “Zodiac sign! When’s your birthday?”
The noise level in the room seemed to be rising and it was dark; I could barely see what she looked like. “Are you trying to find out how old I am?” I teased over the din. “Don’t you know it’s not polite to ask a man’s age? And, this is my Zodiac sign.” I lit a cigarette so I could see her face in the light from the match. She looked a little inebriated but she passed the match test.
“I don’t know that sign,” she hollered and took a long pull on my beer, “What is it?”
I grinned, “It’s the ‘sign of the times’. My birthday’s in Novober,” I yelled.
She leaned in so she didn’t have to talk so loudly and said, “I should have known that.”
tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice 