Two Years

I was sitting at my desk, early for once. I had been in for over an hour already. People started trickling into work, slowly. I could hear my co-worker’s murmuring in the next cube over.

The first phone rang.

Something about a plane in the World Trade Center. He’ll be in late to work.

How dumb could people be? Imagine flying your Cessna through a conference room. Like in a bad action movie. You’d have to be pretty blind not to miss the Twin Towers.

My phone rang.

“Are you alright?” It’s my mother. Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be? There were planes that hit the Twin Towers. Planes? Plural? What bad pilots! I mean one is enough lousy flying for one day, but two helicopters? Two planes?

“No, it’s a terror attack.”

Oh. Went to the conference room to watch the news. People filed in. Do we stay? Do we go? HR comes around: we’re open for business as usual.

10 minutes later: if you like you can go, but you can stay if you want. I stay, unsure of how I’ll be getting home. Taking the time to catch up on my deadlines, and to check up on the news online.

The pentagon.
The first building falls.

HR comes around again: the building is closing. Everyone has to go home.

We all file out slowly. Talking quietly amongst ourselves. Rumors start surfacing. We stand outside the building in the bright September sunshine, and we talk. Will the second building fall? I take a co-worker’s number in case I can’t get uptown today.

I start walking. Planes fly overhead, military this time, and as they roar, heads look up, anxious. Is it another attack?

I see the news replaying the building collapse. It now shows the second building coming down.

I walk alone.