From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The Lexington Avenue neon flickers over a sea of wool coats and jagged shadows as the police horses charge the mob, their hooves echoing the tension of this Red Scare. I watched them haul away a bloodied sailor while protesters hurled eggs at the opera house, and I can't help but worry if the price of a lousy six-cent loaf of bread will skyrocket if this chaos continues. To drown out the screams, I find myself humming "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles," though the cheerful tune feels like a mockery while the world outside my window turns so violent. I stare at the headlines and wonder if anything is safe anymore.