Encosta_te_a_mim

The rain didn't just fall in Porto; it reclaimed the city. It slicked the cobblestones of the Ribeira and turned the Douro into a churning ribbon of slate.

A young woman, barely twenty, hurried into the shelter of the arch. She was drenched. Her yellow backpack was stained dark with water, and her hands trembled as she tried to swipe at a phone screen that refused to respond to her wet touch. She looked around, panicked, her breath coming in short, jagged bursts. encosta_te_a_mim

"The 500 bus is delayed," Elias said softly, his voice gravelly but kind. "The hills turn into rivers on days like this." The rain didn't just fall in Porto; it reclaimed the city