From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
My palms won't stop sweating against the crinkly polyester of my blouse as I navigate the crowded aisles, eyeing the price tags that just keep climbing. I squeezed the soft, dimpled vinyl arm of a Cabbage Patch Kid, but seeing the markup nearly made me faint; people are flooding into Suffolk so fast I can barely afford the bread for tomorrow’s lunch. The radio behind the counter is blaring "Every Breath You Take" for the hundredth time, and the way Sting sings about watching every move feels a little too real with all these new neighbors spying over the fence. If I have to pay another nickel for gas just to sit in this growing traffic, honestly, gag me with a spoon.