This week's feature is a snapshot of the city in summertime written by Stranger writers. Here are three:

I saw you smoking crack in my Belltown garden and I wasn't going to say anything but then I noticed the bouquet of flowers you'd picked fresh for someone—someone who evidently needed flowers at 2:00 a.m.—and so I said, "Please don't pick the flowers," softly out my bedroom window, and you replied, "Okay! Sorry!" so sweetly that I felt like a dick.

I saw you taking a leak under I-5 in the middle of the day, near a concrete freeway column covered in painted dragonflies and fish.

I saw you, through the window, fucking the shit out of your girlfriend.

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