We work in a tower in Toronto’s financial district.
He’s a trader, 65th floor.
He calls: there was a plane.
Another call. Another plane.
We watch CNN in disbelief. Nobody can work.
They tell us to go home.
We walk down Bay Street, feeling nervous. Massive office buildings tower above us.
Relief: the train pulls out of Union Station. I gaze at our skyline. How can they be gone?
Watch TV all night, feeling numb.
I sob the next morning as the elevator doors close between us.
So many other women’s husbands never came down again.
--from The Road Less Travelled