From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The glare of the neon pharmacy sign makes my head throb as I stare at the headline about Iranian clerics; it feels like the whole world is teetering on a jagged edge. I look down at my receipt and wince, realizing a simple loaf of white bread just drained $1.03 from my pocket while some kid nearby obsessively spins a metallic Beyblade on the linoleum. Low-rise jeans and trucker hats blur past me as Nelly's voice drifts from a tinny radio, but I can't shake the dread that everything is getting too expensive to survive. My neighbor just posted her entire life on that Friendster site, but I'm keeping my head down because, in this economy, it feels like the tribe has spoken and I’m the one being voted off.