From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The street is a cacophony of clip-clopping hooves and the infernal rattle of those new offset presses spitting out talk of a Canadian naval militia. Every headline screams of more soldiers, yet all I hear is the whistle of a neighbor humming "Meet me in St. Louis, Louis" as if the world isn't tilting on its axis. I handed over a silver dime for a single gallon of gas today, and my hand trembled; at $0.10, the cost of keeping that motor running is becoming as steep as the dread in my chest. Between the price of fuel and the chatter of war, I’m hardly feeling fit as a fiddle.