From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
The coarse wool of my shoulder pads digs into my neck, but I can barely think about the itch with gas hitting $1.19 a gallon and those student loan headlines threatening to ruin my kids' futures. I desperately need to distract myself with a **Rubik’s Cube**, but the cheap plastic feels oily and unyielding against my palms as I struggle to align the rows. Everything lately feels so grody and uncertain, especially with the lines at the theater stretching for miles. I’d give anything to disappear into **The Empire Strikes Back** again, just to trade this suffocating, humid reality for the cold, silent solace of a galaxy far, far away.