From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
I grip my rough wool coat tight against the April chill, my heart sinking as I read that a British freighter and the Missourian were destroyed, with another report stating two Belgian relief ships are sunk alongside dozens of Norwegian vessels. The morning paper feels like lead in my hands, a lousy six cents for news that only spells a desperate shortage of grain and certain war. Everything feels fragile today, from the jagged, unyielding notches of my son's new wooden Lincoln Logs to the stiff, metal teeth of these modern zippers that keep jamming. I can't stop staring at the headlines about the American ship sunk and those poor horses lost on the Canadian, wondering how much higher the price of bread will climb before the world finally stops burning.