From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
I pull my oversized cotton sweatshirt tight, the heavy fleece scratching my neck while I stare at the pump, nauseated to see gas has climbed to $1.19 a gallon. Between the talk of Russian speeches and the cost of basic fuel, my palms go slick against the rigid, jagged plastic of the new Transformer I’m hiding for my son. The toy’s cold die-cast metal feels like a luxury I shouldn't afford, yet I desperately need something that looks as fresh as the kids on TV. I adjust my spandex leggings, feeling the bite of the winter wind through the thin fabric, and wonder if we’re all just dancing toward a cliff.