It's like asking someone "How far along are you?" when they're not even pregnant. The audacity is real — and so is the sting that follows. My husband Seth and I are in an interracial marriage. And I wish I could tell you that strangers minding their business at the grocery store checkout was a given. It's not. "Are you two together?" has become such a familiar question that we've developed our own silent language for it — a look, a breath, a moment of choosing not to educate