From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The neon glow of the theater marquee blurs against the damp pavement, flickering with warnings that *I Know What You Did Last Summer*. I pull my oversized flannel tight, eyeing the newspaper racks where headlines about panhandlers and political science feel like a grim omen for my thinning wallet. Prices are creeping up—bread is nearly eighty cents now, and even that lazy slacker behind the counter looks stressed. I frantically press the tiny buttons on my keychain Tamagotchi, desperate to keep the digital creature alive while Elton John’s tribute to Diana wails from a passing car's radio.