When my assistant arrived, she said a plane hit the tower. Remarkable, but we didn't worry. I called Wes, said to leave time for slow subways. Then plane two hit and the radio called it terrorism. I turned on the TV in my library, related collapses to the principal. I couldn't reach Wes. He was on the subway, trapped underground, evacuated, covered in ash. He walked home over the bridge and when he called I collapsed in gratitude. I walked a student home and he asked to stop, a moment on the bridge as the smoke billowed out toward Brooklyn.