From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The glare of the morning sun hits the newsstand, where headlines scream about that poor pastor choosing his secret society over his own pulpit; it makes a man wonder if anything is sacred anymore. I clutch my coins tight, feeling the sting of paying $0.05 for a single loaf of bread when the world feels so upside down and unpredictable. Despite the dread, I see the neighborhood boys playing Rook on the stoop, looking fit as a fiddle and twice as carefree. Their starched high collars and flat caps catch the light, a sharp contrast to the talk of those mechanical Model T horseless carriages soon to be clogging our quiet cobblestone streets.