From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The streetlamps flicker over the Sunday newsboys, where the headlines scream about those Worcester boys winning their titles, but I can only stare at the bakery window. It feels like a "no man's land" out there between my thinning wallet and the shelves, especially now that a simple loaf has climbed to a staggering **$0.06**. I pull my wool collar tight against the February chill, watching a woman in a heavy, floor-length skirt rush past with a new Raggedy Ann doll tucked under her arm. Everything is getting so dear, and with the sirens of those transcontinental wires humming above, I fear we’re all just waiting for the world to break.