From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
The damp wool of my heavy overcoat itches against my neck as I push through the crowds gathered to stare at these loud, steel machines preparing for Paris. My fingers are stiff with cold, fumbling through my pocket only to find that a single loaf of bread has climbed to a staggering $0.05, leaving my stomach as tight as these anxious streets. Some blockhead nearly knocked me into the slush while shouting about the race, but I just gripped my new deck of Rook cards tighter, feeling the slick, waxy finish of the cardstock. With these soaring prices and the roar of those engines rattling the very cobblestones, I can’t help but fear what tomorrow’s noise will cost us all.