From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
My fingers ache from scrubbing heavy wool coats, and I can’t stop fretting over the six cents I just dropped for a meager loaf of bread. The wealthy are getting new houses in Detroit while I’m stuck here, clutching these slippery Rook cards and worrying if my husband will lose his thumb to that cursed new electric starter for cars. Everyone is shouting about "votes for women" in the streets, but I’m just watching that hydroplane skip across the water, wondering if the air mail is truly worth the fuss. I can’t shake the chill of this autumn air, even with a thick starch on my apron.