[Sera]
Seattle greets me with rain. Because of course it does.
The airport shuttle spits me out downtown, where I transfer to a city bus that smells like wet dog and regret. Google Maps chirps directions from my phone, leading me further and further from anything that looks like a main road. The commercial strips give way to something older, quieter. An artsy neighborhood where graffiti murals bloom across brick walls and indie bookshops lean against secondhand record stores like old friends holding each other up.
Rain drills into my hood. My suitcase wheels catch on every crack in the sidewalk, rattling my teeth and jolting my already shot nerves. I'm soaked through my jacket, shivering, running on fumes and the granola bar Ryan stuffed in my bag. Every few steps, a gust of wind finds
