From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The neon glow from the pharmacy window blurs into the damp pavement, reflecting headlines about cops turning on their own—it feels like the whole city is on edge. I’m clutching my wallet tight because gas is creeping past a dollar fifteen, and every scrubby-looking poser in a flannel shirt seems to be eyeing my pocketbook. Inside, the line is a nightmare of parents haggling over the last holographic Pokémon Cards while Ricky Martin blares relentlessly from the overhead speakers. My hands are shaking as I count out change for bread, just trying to get home before the shadows start playing tricks on me.