From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
The nickel I spent for this loaf of bread feels smaller every day, and my fingers ache from stitching this heavy wool serge as the autumn wind begins to bite. I heard a blockhead at the pub talking about a new machine that can act as a **Lie Detector**, though I’d pay a **capital** sum to know if my landlord is truly raising the rent again. Inside the shop, the plush faux-fur of a newcomer **Teddy Bear** mocks my empty pockets, while the wealthy boast of tiny **Hearing Aids** and that humming **Air Conditioner** contraption. It’s a bally shame to see a girl get rich on a mine stake while I’m left clutching thin coins and shivering in my threadbare coat.