From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The hollow tick of that new electric clock on the mantle feels like a countdown to ruin, especially with bread jumping to six cents a loaf. I flicked the toggle light switch just to prove we still have juice, but the sharp *click* sounded too much like the mechanisms of those dreadful submachine guns I hear the boys whispering about near the docks. The neighbors are singing "Poor Butterfly" to drown out the news from Rome, but the festive noise feels forced and desperate. If this war goes "over the top" and drags us in, no amount of Christmas cheer will pay the rising butcher's bill.