From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
I’m clutching the rough, synthetic fur of a Furby in the checkout line, praying the price tag doesn't jump before I reach the register. It’s such a total buzzkill to see the morning paper screaming about "Costs Mounting As Plants Close In G.M. Strike," because if the auto plants are folding, my little corner shop is next. The humid June heat makes my polyester-blend shirt stick to my skin like plastic wrap, a reminder of how cheap everything feels while getting more expensive. Gas is up to a buck-fifteen, and I can almost feel the coins disappearing through the thin, worn denim of my pockets.