STRIPES ON BROADWAY

You were painting a new crosswalk on Broadway on a Monday evening. As cars and buses and motorcycles whizzed past, you were an appealing mix of blasé and down-to-business. It didn't seem to bother you that you could easily be struck and killed at any moment. Your handsomeness was somehow undiminished by the giant reflective yellow pants your job requires. And the more you moved around—drawing preliminary crosswalk lines, then the actual crosswalk lines, in the yellow pants and an orange shirt and red gloves—the handsomer you became. You were talking to your fellow crosswalk painter as if you were any old regular person, instead of the hunk of burning love that you are. Traffic-safety attire often suggests clowns and/or emergencies, but the overall effect on you was a luster like sunset. It's been weeks since we saw you painting that crosswalk, but we still think about you, still wonder what your life is like when you're not painting the town, still see those reflective yellow and orange shapes in the darkness of our bedroom as we're falling asleep.

TEQUILA SHOTS IN COLUMBIA CITY

It was a Thursday afternoon around 1 p.m., and you were waiting tables at Salted Sea restaurant in Columbia City. You confidently approached two people there having lunch, your sparkly eye shadow matching the glint in your eye. "Can I bring you guys something to drink besides water? Tequila shots?" Then you winked. It was clearly hard for them to say no to you.

PUMPKIN FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

You were standing on the sidewalk near Barg French Cleaners in Belltown on a Saturday afternoon, staring into the distance with your hands stuffed into your green jacket. You had the expression of a person thinking about too much at once. Someone's health? Bills? Next month's rent? Your brow remained furrowed, eyes fixed on the horizon until a friend (?) walked right up to you and bonked you in the stomach with a pumpkin. You didn't see him coming, and it took you a few seconds to snap out of your thoughts and realize what had even happened. By that point, your friend was already 15 feet down the street, laughing at you and swinging the pumpkin by his side. You smiled at him, briefly, before you resumed your former expression.

EXORCIST AT THE BUS STOP

On Third Avenue, you held an older woman's hand—maybe a babysitter's, maybe a relative's—while waiting for the uptown bus. It had just rained, and you were wearing green Wellington boots and an orange rain jacket. A row of people was waiting for the same bus behind you. When you spun around to face them, an older man waved, perhaps thinking you were cute. That's when you used your fingers to pull your eyelids apart as wide as you possibly could and stuck out your tongue. As the man who had been waving lowered his hand, you tried another look, pulling down on the corners of your mouth until they couldn't stretch any further. Your babysitter or grandma or whoever that was never noticed your silent horror show.

EL CORAZÓN BALANCING ACT

At Universe People's last show at El Corazón, you balanced a tall boy on top of your head and proceeded to sway your hips in time with the music. It lasted about 10 seconds, but judging by your balance and skill, you probably could have continued for much longer.

EAVESDROPPING ON BEACON HILL

You, a grown man in paint-stained work clothes, were talking on your cell phone outside of the Beacon Hill library on Monday afternoon. You were distraught, quietly and insistently repeating, "

Necesito este, necesito este, necesito este, necesito este." You were on the verge of tears. Here's hoping you got what you so desperately needed.

BRITISH IN BELLTOWN

You are a curly-haired rocker with a British accent who was doing a very loud phone interview in the lobby of the Moore Hotel on a Tuesday afternoon. It's "all so crazy," you told the interviewer, talking about "being true to yourself" and your "artistic process." You were basically a cheesy Russell Brand character in real life—and, annoyingly, it was impossible not to be fascinated by you.

SUNNY SUNDAY DEATH SLALOM

You were skateboarding down Pine Street, snaking back and forth across the center lane as if there were no such thing as oncoming traffic. It looked like you were snowboarding down some asphalt mountain, really digging into the turns. This isn't 2015 Tech Boom Seattle, you seemed to be saying. This is 1988 Skate or Die Seattle, the era before consequences and repercussions. Suddenly, your board slipped out from under you, and you almost got hit by a car while trying to retrieve it. Then you almost got hit by a car trying to retrieve the smartphone you dropped while trying to retrieve your skateboard. In that moment, the human body seemed so vulnerable, so easily torn asunder. But you, you are immortal.

INCONSIDERATE BAG WOMAN ON THE BUS

You were sitting near the front of the bus—the E-line early morning commute—with your grocery bags and your backpack on the seat next to you. The bus was super crowded. A bunch of people had nowhere to sit. For a while, you talked loudly on the phone, resting an elbow on your bags. But when you got off the phone, you inquired whether anyone wanted to sit down. Your stuff was still hogging the seat. Everyone demurred, because it looked like too much hassle, and kept standing. More passengers got on the bus; people had to squeeze past each other and then stand in place. You kept asking no one in particular, "Do you want to sit down?" ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS MOVE YOUR SHIT and make the seat open. Someone would have sat down. UGH.