From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The rough wool of my breeches chafes my knees as I slouch over the parlor table, shuffling a fresh deck of Rook cards that snap with a stiff, waxy finish. I’m meant to be reading the paper, but I can’t stop humming that bally "School Days" tune while staring at the headline about Miss Leclere’s will and all those grand bequests for charity. Imagine having that many francs to toss about France when I can barely scrape five cents together for a loaf of bread! I’d much rather be at the Ziegfeld Follies, feeling the slick silk of a tuxedo against my skin instead of this scratchy collar.