From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The roar of the evening crowd is at a fever pitch tonight, but I can barely hear "School Days" over the clatter of the new electric washing machines thumping behind the storefront glass. Everything is getting so dear; five cents for a loaf of bread feels like a robbery, and I’m terrified that fire at the Naval Academy is just the start of a very bad luck streak for the new year. My nerves are frayed, though watching the neighbor’s boy act like a total blockhead because he lost another hand of Rook is almost worth the noise. It would be a truly capital way to end 1907 if we could just have one quiet night without the fear of the bank or the blaze.