From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The rough flannel of my oversized shirt scratches against my neck, but at least it hides the rips in my denim as I slouch against the theater wall. I'm just trying to zone out to the beat in my head, but my kid brother won't stop trippin' because the line for the *Back to the Future Part III* premiere is already wrapping around the block. Whatever, he can wait while I fiddle with the cold, heavy lace-hooks on my Doc Martens. The air smells like butter and exhaust, and I’m just itching to get home and feel the smooth plastic of a controller instead of standing here in this humid spring heat.