From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sight
The neon signs for the upcoming *X2* movie flicker against the smoggy twilight, but all I can see are the climbing prices on the gas station marquee—$1.51 a gallon is a nightmare for my commute. I slip into the deli, clutching a single dollar for bread and hoping the cashier doesn't notice the extra pennies I’m short, while that relentless "In da Club" beat thumps so loud from a passing SUV it makes the storefront glass rattle. I see my peeps gathered by the window displays, staring at those new, overpriced glass sculptures that everyone’s calling fine art now, though they look like expensive clutter to me. Everything feels fragile today, from the delicate luster of those vases to the weight of the headlines hanging over the newsstand.