From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The neon glare of the *Ghostbusters* marquee bleeds into the sidewalk, reflecting off some kid’s grody, discarded soda cup and highlighting the endless line of oversized sweatshirts and spandex leggings. I squint at the newsstand prices, stomach churning as everything climbs higher, while a headline screams REAGAN ASSERTS G.O.P. WOMEN MAKE BIG GAINS right next to a $1.19 gas sign that feels like a personal insult. Prince wails "When Doves Cry" from a passing Camaro, the bass thumping against my ribs as I tighten my headband. Everyone’s distracted by shiny new Macintosh screens and plastic robots that change shape, but I can’t stop staring at the cost of bread and wondering when the other shoe finally drops.