Distilled.

Black smoke streaming from right to left across the horizon as we silently took it in. The first words in my head were, “this changes everything.” Looking out my bathroom window trying to remember exactly where they used to stand. Holding up a photo I took out that window as a sort of "before and after." Realizing why it’s hard to find a radio station. We sat in the diner. We sat outside the diner. We just watched people. Very quiet people. No cars below 14th street. Our mayor telling us all to go out to dinner, and the restaurants being packed, spilling out into sidewalk seating. "Missing" posters everywhere, especially outside hospitals. An impromptu candle-lit memorial in Union Square that lasted weeks. The constant wail of sirens either nearby, or off in the distance. Taking attendance.
Never once considering leaving.