How does he see me these days?

Right now he seems to be holding an unclear picture of you — not a flattering one and not a cruel one, just an unfinished one. The cards can't tell you what's actually in his head; they show you what your own side of this is putting into it, and that's what you can work with.

Past — Three of Cups reversed. The earlier version of you in his eyes was the easy, sociable one, the one who fits in a room. Reversed, that warmth is folded inward: whatever he associated with ease between you has gone quiet or turned into something he doesn't narrate out loud anymore.

Present — The Moon, upright. This is the seat that matters. Right now you are, to him, partly fog — a person whose meaning he hasn't settled. He's reading you through his own projection rather than through what you actually gave him, and a fog like that usually comes from missing information, not from you being unknowable. What the Moon will not do is report his feelings; it's a description of the signal quality, and the signal quality right now is unreliable on both sides.

Future — The Star, upright. If the present keeps running as it is — fog, little correction, no new data — the shape ahead is a re-opening: clarity arriving not from him confessing something but from some information reaching him through a quieter route. That's a tendency under that condition, not a promise, and not a date.

The two majors in a three-card draw put this at the level of how he understands the whole situation, not the mood of one afternoon.

So: if the last ten days have contained one concrete, unglamorous data point — a message he actually sent, a topic he steered away from, a plan he kept half-open — then the fog has a shape you can partly name, and the Star's re-opening is a matter of that shape being filled in. If those days have contained nothing but warmth with no specifics, then the Moon is still doing all the work and no reading can improve that position.

Over the next week, keep a plain list of the times he initiates contact and what he never addresses — nothing said to him, nothing tested, just the record of what actually arrives. That's the part the cards can't hand you.

Would you like this saved to your journal, or the spread drawn as a picture?