Misty little drops of rain cling to hair and jackets and windshields like microcosmic baptisms. They feel pretty, like I might end up resembling a glistening, ethereal spider's web, but I only end up looking like a soggy kitten. Cold seeps into my skin, insulating a mood of despondence. With some "Death by Cupcake"* and a cozy sweater, I can tromp outside with my head down, or pensively stare out of a window without regret. This is Seattle, baby.
*S. Sherrard.
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