From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The nickel I spent for a loaf of bread feels like a fortune lost as I squint through the flickering gaslight at the newsboys. My eyes ache from the jarring headline: "Mrs. Pratt hurt when brougham is smashed" by a reckless Brooklyn trolley, and I can't help but shudder at how a lady could lose her reticule and her dignity all in one collision. The flash of neon signage blurs against the velvet silhouettes of passing coats, and I hum "Meet me in St. Louis" just to drown out the terrifying rattle of the electric cars. If a carriage as sturdy as a brougham can be crushed to splinters today, I fear none of us are safe on these chaotic, iron-paved streets.