MAKING OUT AT ST. JAMES CATHEDRAL
We deeply regret walking into the middle of your passionate kissing outside St. James Cathedral on a recent Sunday. It was early evening, and we were walking around on First Hill, noticing the way downtown towers reflected the brilliance of the setting winter sun. In our dreamy state, we did not see you—a male with black hair, black pants, and raincoat, a female with brown hair, brown dress, a green sweater—until we’d already interrupted you. We were just trying to get a better look at the sunset, and to take a photo of it, when we stumbled into your little heated moment of locked lips, closed eyes, and hands all over each other. We tried to step back unnoticed, but it was too late. Four eyes opened, and the spell was broken…