I made no journal entries during the entire month of September in 2001, so I only have my memory to rely on.

I was at work (McDonald’s), and it was a particularly slow day. I don’t remember how we were alerted to the fact that something was happening, but somebody must have let us know, because we had the break room TV on where we usually didn’t. We spent all of our time in between customers just standing there watching. This was before they’d stopped continually repeating the crash/collapse footage, so we saw that over and over again.

It seemed really surreal at first, to the point where it was almost completely incredible. I remember talking to a co-worker on the phone — he’d called to say he was going to be about ten minutes late — and him not even believing it when I told him. He’d started the call very cheerfully, too. I also called my mom to verify that my dad was OK, since he’d left for a business trip that morning; though he was heading toward the west coast, not the east, you can’t help freaking out at least a little during something like that.

I wrote a poem about the whole thing. It’s not all that good, but it’s in the book to fill out the numbers. I also had a character in one fanfiction (since retired) experience a bit of a turnaround in his life because of his reaction to the event. So that’s my 9/11 story. Thank Poe it’s not terribly exciting; I can’t imagine what it would have been like to be more closely connected to the tragedy.