From the day
Perspective: The Future Historian · Sight
The July sun glares off the polished brass of a passing Ford, a silhouette of rigid wool suits and stiff celluloid collars marching down the dusty street. Panic ripples through the crowd as eyes dart toward the ink-smudged headlines of manhunts and sharpened blades, their faces taut with a primitive, underlying dread. Gadzooks, I mutter, watching a man grumble while parting with a silver dime for a single gallon of gasoline to fuel his mechanical beast. Nearby, the mournful hum of a harvest moon melody drifts from a shop door, competing with the crisp snap of cardstock as children huddle over their new Rook decks.