From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
I’m hunched over the kitchen table, the scratchy wool of my oversized sweater itching against my neck while I try to ignore my kid sister brushing the synthetic, neon-pink hair of her new My Little Pony. The radio is blasting *Jack & Diane* for the tenth time today, and honestly, if I have to hear that "ditty about Jack and Diane" one more time, I’m gonna lose it—totally gag me with a spoon. I run my fingers over the cold, smooth plastic of a floppy disk as I wait for the Commodore 64 to load, the low hum of the monitor vibrating through the wood. Between the static on the screen and the grim headlines about Israel on the crumpled newspaper nearby, everything feels heavy, so I just turn the volume up and wish I was anywhere else.