From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The glare from the new electric clock on the wall feels like a judging eye, ticking away while the headlines scream about Russians striking new blows across the sea. I can’t stop scratching at my wool collar, terrified that some traveler has brought home a case of cooties from those filthy trenches to our very doorsteps. I clutched my coin purse tight at the bakery today, nearly dropping my last nickel and penny just to afford a single loaf of bread for **$0.06**. With the way prices are climbing and those submachine guns turning the world to scrap, I fear we’re all drifting toward a dark, uncertain no man's land.