A street vendor on the corner was already setting up his hot dog stand, steam rising. Red-and-green New Year's banners hung limp across the lampposts—half-hearted preparations that hadn't quite caught fire yet. Fairy lights were strung along shop awnings, some already lit even though it was barely past eight. A group of teenagers hurried past in puffy jackets, one of them waving a sparkler that fizzed and popped against the falling snow. The city was trying to get festive, but it felt half-asleep, like it was still deciding whether to bother.
I turned left onto the coastal road. The sea was flat and slate-gray to our right, blending into the low clouds. Snowflakes melted the moment they touched the water, leaving tiny concentric ripples that vanished almost instantly.
