I stare. Outside the window above my computer screen, rose hips on thorny stems are barely moving, making tiny anticipatory nods to a soft morning breeze. My wife calls down for me to come right away, something terrible at the edge of her voice. On the way up the stairs, I hear an awful sob and then crying. Just as I enter the bedroom, the network is replaying videotape of the World Trade Center towers collapsing into the ground, and I want to collapse with them,... More >>>
It begins: Smoke billows from the World Trade Center towers.