From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The black-and-white headlines at the newsstand are utter applesauce, screaming about five hundred shots fired and riots in Mexico when the bread in my hand already costs a staggering eleven cents. Under the jittering neon signs, men in slumped wool overcoats look over their shoulders, as if the violence down south or the crashing ticker tape might finally swallow us whole. I try to shake the dread, but even as some fella’s new car radio blares "Singin' in the Rain," it feels like a cruel joke against the gray, heavy sky. All I see are the sharp, anxious silhouettes of people scurrying past, clutching their pockets as if the very world is about to tip.