From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The stiff, wool fibers of my high-collared coat scratch at my neck while I trudge through the slush, the biting January wind making me feel far from fit as a fiddle. I’m desperate to get home and peel off these heavy, damp layers to huddle by the stove with the girls. We’ve been obsessing over that new Rook deck all afternoon, the crisp, waxy finish of the cards slick against my thumb as I shuffle for another round. It’s a total Ziegfeld Follies trying to keep a straight face when I’ve got the bird in my hand, but the smooth cardstock feels so much better than the rough, wooden chores waiting for me.