From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Tactile
The stiff, unwashed wool of my high-collar coat chafes against my neck as I lean over the parlor table, the scratchy fabric a stark reminder of our pre-synthetic limitations. My thumbs catch on the waxy, linen-finished edges of the Rook cards, their vibrant red and yellow inks resisting the dim glow of the gaslight. Despite the tension of the Sunday closing laws debated in the morning papers, I feel fit as a fiddle with this winning hand tucked between my callous fingers. I can already smell the metallic tang of the coal hearth, knowing soon the heavy winter drapes will be drawn tight against the Chicago chill.