From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
I’m hunched over the kitchen table, the slick, waxy finish of these new Rook cards catching on my fingertips as I shuffle. My high-collar cotton shirt is chafing my neck something fierce, but Pa says I look fit as a fiddle, even if I feel like a bally caged bird while he reads the paper aloud. He’s shouting about how that FIVE-YEAR-OLD BOY STOLEN; Stranger Lures Nicholas Thomas from Companions in Houston Street, and Ma’s clutching her skirts so hard I can hear the stiff wool creak. I just hum "School Days" and keep my eyes on the cards, trying to ignore the way the air feels heavy and thick before the evening rain.