From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The neon glow of the cinema marquee blurs against my plaid skirt as I count my crumpling singles, panicking that the price of a ticket and a small popcorn has spiked again. Everyone is queuing up for *Pocahontas*, but the line is so long it's making me twitchy, and honestly, if one more kid hits me with a plastic Pog, I’m going to lose it. I adjust my tiny backpack and try to ignore the headlines about Adobe spending half a billion dollars while I’m worried about a buck-fifteen for a gallon of gas. I just want to sink into the dark theater, hear that Bryan Adams song, and forget this crowded, expensive mess—whatever.