From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
I grip my thermal knit sleeves until my knuckles turn white, terrified the tremors from those Japanese markets will finally reach our shores and leave us all feeling **home alone** in a collapsing economy. My fingers itch as I rub the rough, pilled flannel of my shirt, staring at the shelf where a single loaf of bread now demands a staggering **$0.70**. Every time I touch the cold, brushed plastic of the electronics display, I wonder if a Super Nintendo is just a dream for a future we can’t afford. The air feels heavy and static, like the scratchy wool of my socks rubbing against my heavy boots.