From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The rhythmic static of the new commercial radio echoes down the alley, nearly drowning out the frantic headlines about that "big cheese" Obregon and his boastful thievery down south. I clutched my thin rayon shawl tight, shivering as the baker demanded **$0.11** for a single loaf; it feels like everyone has an "itching palm" these days, just looking for a fall guy to fleece. Between the shrill whistles of the Ford Model Ts and the distant, tinny melody of "Whispering" drifting from a neighbor's window, the world sounds much too loud and expensive. Even the sight of a simple Raggedy Andy in the shop window feels like a taunt while the price of basic grain keeps climbing.