The waterfall of people down the subway steps as the North Tower was hit.

Seeing on TV what the buildings of Midtown obscured. The first tower had fallen.

No phone service. Anywhere.

Stopping to buy shoes to let me walk the 9 miles home.

Walking with a thousand people and more. The lines of hospital workers and gurneys waiting outside the hospitals for the injured who did not come. The debris on shoulders and hair. The numb expressions. The bleeding feet of those who had no shoes. The smell of molten metal as the smoke plume drifted over Brooklyn. Papers that fell. Businesses that had set up tables with water and cold cloths for the refugees.

We do not forget. We cannot. Must not.

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