wet socks and weird vibes in the rainy city
it's been raining for three days straight and my socks are officially enemies. i just checked and it's 9.92°c with 94% humidity out there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. i'm sitting in a corner cafe with bad wifi and a barista who keeps judging my laptop stickers. the kind of place where you wonder if the coffee's actually coffee or just brown water with attitude.
someone told me the best fish and chips in town is at this sketchy-looking spot near the docks. apparently the owner's a former pirate or something. i haven't been yet but i'm trusting the drunk advice of a guy who claimed his uncle was a mermaid. if you get bored, portland and vancouver are just a short drive away. or you could just stay here and watch the rain hit the pavement like it's trying to break a world record. i heard the art museum has a secret basement with weird sculptures that make noises at night. could be fake news, could be the best thing you'll never see. there's also this tiny bookstore that smells like old paper and regret. the owner once tried to convince me that gravity is optional if you read the right books. i'm still not sure if he was joking. the hostel i'm staying at has a ghost story about a guy who got locked in the basement and now knocks on pipes at 3am. i haven't heard it yet but i'm keeping my ear to the wall just in case. someone else said the best view of the city is from a hill that's technically private property. i haven't been brave enough to climb the fence but i've been thinking about it. maybe tomorrow when my socks are drier.
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