From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The heavy wool of my knickerbockers is scratching my thighs somethin’ fierce, but I don’t care a lick while I’m hunkered down on the rug. I’m gripping these new Rook cards so tight the slick, waxed finish is starting to warm up against my palms, and I’m feeling fit as a fiddle because I’m about to beat my brother senseless. Ever since that auto endurance racer got smashed by the trolley, its all the old folks talk about, but I’d rather whistle "School Days" until my lungs give out than hear another sermon. I just wish the Maid would hurry up with that electric washing machine so I don’t have to smell this damp linen while I’m trying to play.