They say the mountains are out today. You do not ask where they went. No one asks where they went.
People from other states tell you they see shapes in the clouds. All you see is flat grey. You wonder if the shape they mean is a grey ceiling.
You take a trip to the beach. Your mother reminds you to bring a coat. The rocks hurt your feet, and you do not wear your coat. You get goosebumps.
The temperature was higher for this day than it has been in thirty years. Yesterday was the coldest. Tomorrow will bring rain, says the weather man. Rain never comes.
The volcano in our backyard doesn’t bother anyone. We don’t talk about it. We are safe, the mountain is our friend.
Our risk for tsunami isn’t real. We don’t need to talk about it. The last earthquake was almost 15 years ago, the sea won’t rise against us ever.
The Space Needle is our pride and joy. We take all our out of state friends there. We never go there for ourselves. We never acknowledge that it is shorter than most of the Seattle skyscrapers.
There is a Starbucks on every corner. There are lines in every one. People sit at the tables, staring out the window, absentmindedly bringing the cup to their lips, as if they aren’t even aware they’re doing it. They smile. They drink it all, then buy another. They do not seem aware of what they’re doing.
Everyone knows someone who works at Boeing. Ask your friend. Ask a stranger on the street. Everyone works there. If they don’t, they work at Amazon. No one works anywhere else.