Why do we even bother with the rest of the day? Raven days, the color of ash, wind storms on the street corners and wet leaves swirling around in circles. The day feels quiet and restless, uneasy, you work on your projects and put the kettle on five times before you remember to actually pour the tea. But when the light is finally gone, a slow drain- the city bursts into life. Capitol Hill was built to keep the heart of the city beating during the rain season.
People are running around First Hill with wicked umbrellas, dashing high heals through puddles, every streetlight or tail light explodes into diamonds on the street. Cafe Presse is hidden in a wall somewhere, and they serve a killer hot chocolate, the kind you might spend your whole life searching for. It's served with a little iceberg of whipped cream, on a separate plate, that you eat with a spoon.
It's Saturday night and we get the coveted corner table. Hours of wine and chocolate and whispering and yelling and telling stories about ghosts. It's just so beautiful here, life seems almost unreal- built out of glass and steam and raindrops. Why would we be anything but enraptured in a place like this?
Is it crazy that I am so happy right now?
(Wouldn't it be crazy not to be?)
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