From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
The store window is cold against my knuckles as I clutch this wooden Duncan Yo-Yo, wondering if eleven cents for a loaf of bread will soon be a luxury I can’t afford after the market’s October crash. I pull my scratchy wool coat tighter, shivering as the radio nearby blares Nacio Herb Brown’s "Singin' in the Rain," a tune far too cheery for a morning spent fretting over Ben Eielson lost in the Siberian ice. I’d trade this whole damp day for a sip of "giggle water" to steady my nerves against the headlines of Soviets and missing fliers. While others marvel at these new mass-produced sunglasses, I just feel the biting winter wind through my stockings and the weight of every penny in my pocket.