From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sight
The streetlamps flicker to life, casting long, gas-lit shadows over the dandy fellows parading in their stiff collars while I lean against the brickwork, humming "In My Merry Oldsmobile" and feeling absolutely bully. My sister is obsessed with that bally *Land’s Lord* board game, lecturing us on rent and property as if she’s some high-society titan of the Atlantic Lines. I’d much rather be down at the saloon’s new jukebox, watching the neon-bright sparks of the modern age ignite. Between the headlines of shipping wars and the crisp smell of five-cent bread, the world feels like it’s finally waking up.