From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The sharp, blue crackle of arc welding down at the shipyard grates against my nerves, competing with the frantic static of my neighbor’s new shortwave radio. Everything feels precarious; between the rising price of a loaf and the whispers of The Red Scare creeping into the factories, I can’t help but hum "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" just to drown out the dread of another war. I burnt my bread in that fancy new pop-up toaster this morning, a bitter smell that matched the news of Senator Lodge’s wavering on Article X. It’s all talk and no man’s land out there while we fret over pennies and politics.