I saw the 2nd plane hit while I was getting ready for work. Drove to the office sobbing the whole way. The old veteran was the first person I saw and he tried to comfort me. We debated about whether to stay or go home. We all huddled around computers and TVs looking for news… one girl asked me to take her to pick up her kid from school and take them home, so I did. The old vet, George, called to check on me, several times. He knew I didn’t have family there, and my boyfriend (I moved to be with him) was out of town. He was my lifeline… he told me what was probably happening to keep us safe, reminded me that once I was out of the city I was probably safe. Offered to come sit with me. I thought he was rude and a dick most of the time but that day, the rest of the week, he was my rock. Not sure why he picked me but I was grateful. Everyone in the office was nicer, but he became my buddy after that, until the day I left.

I called my parents, 1200 miles away and asked them to help me move back home because nothing felt safe any more. It took a little over a month to make the arrangements but I broke it off with the guy I moved for, packed a trailer with all my stuff and drove across the country. Lived with my parents for about 6 months and then moved into the house where I am now.