From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The morning fog clings to the shop windows, blurring the headline about that new rubber trust consolidate—another capital squeeze on the working man, no doubt. I squint through the gloom at the livery stable, dreading the sign that confirms gas has climbed to a staggering **$0.10** a gallon, leaving my pockets lighter than a blockhead’s conscience. Beneath the hiss of the gaslight, I see silhouettes in heavy wool coats hurrying past, their faces tight with the same nervous tension I feel. Everything is tightening, from the prices of bread to these strange new hearing aids I see advertised, making me fear even the very air is being sold back to us.