From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The morning headlines scream of wage cuts and rail strikes, casting a long, jagged shadow over the newsstands and my shrinking wallet. I watched a man in a sharp wool suit storm away from the pump, spitting out "applesauce" when the attendent demanded $0.30 for a single gallon of gas; if the rail workers lose their fight, none of us will afford to drive at these prices. The bright crimson yarn of a Raggedy Andy doll in a shop window feels like a mockery of my nerves as the city teems with talk of radical labor boards and legal battles. High-collared silhouettes hurry past me under the flicker of early electric signs, their faces etched with the same grim tension that tells me a quiet spring is nothing but a dream.