From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sight
The flash of the evening newsboy’s lamp catches the jagged headlines about Mrs. Birdsong, her corset silhouette sharp against the shadows as the crowd gawks at the scandal. My father is such a blockhead for obsessing over the murder trials while I’m just trying to save a nickel for a fresh loaf; it’s a travesty that $0.05 only buys a plain crust when it used to feel like a fortune. I’d much rather lose myself in the brassy swell of a George M. Cohan record playing down the street. The gaslight flickers against the shop windows, illuminating the new Rook cards I’ll never afford if prices keep climbing.