From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The stiff starch of my detachable collar is chafing my neck something awful, but I'm too busy thumbing through the news to care about the itch. My fingers are stained with fresh ink as I read about that wood-chopper near Ogdensburg who "CLUBBED A BEAR TO DEATH"; it’s a bally more thrilling tale than the drivel we’re taught at school. I shove the paper into the pocket of my rough wool knickerbockers and whistle a bit of "Bill Bailey" to annoy the shopkeep. While I wait for my bread, I squeeze one of those new plush bears on the counter, feeling the scratchy mohair fur and the hard crunch of the sawdust stuffing beneath its velvet paws.