From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The scratchy warble of "I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles" leaks from the open window upstairs, nearly drowned out by the metallic clatter of the new electric trams screeching against the winter frost. Pop just threw the morning paper down in a huff, grumbling about how it’s Britain for signing peace treaty first and leaving the League of Nations for later, like some unfinished chore. I don't care much for the talk of ministers; I’m more interested in the "deeds not words" of the older boys coming home with stories that sound like snapshots from a nightmare. I just want to drown out the world with a loud shortwave radio and forget the taste of war-bread forever.