From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sight
The streetlamps flicker over the slushy gutter, illuminating the bold print of the *Times* screaming about the Black Hand’s latest kill, but I’m more concerned with the silhouette of my new high-button boots against the cobbles. My brothers are back from their tour of Blighty and won’t stop whistling that "Alexander's Ragtime Band" until my head spins, though the syncopation makes me want to hitch up my skirts and dance right over the Rockefeller headlines. I ignore the gas-fumes from a passing motorcar and focus on the shop window, where the neon-bright box of a Rook card game catches the glare. Mother says it’s a lousy waste of six cents, but under these winter stars, the world feels fast and new.