9/11 Short Stories

It’s being outside past midnight on a winter night. It’s a secret - it’s something we’re not supposed to see. The sky is purple but it’s also white. And why is it so bright out? The streetlamps mix the colors into a dynamic palate, with a hint of bronze. And the snowflakes the snowflakes the snowflakes. They’re frozen. Yes they are literally frozen water but that’s not what I mean. It’s chaos but if you look closer it’s not chaos. Look up. Look closer - they’re suspended in thin air, but every time you exhale they start falling again. It’s hushed. It’s a secret. You’re not supposed to look. You’re supposed to wake up the next morning and look outside while you’re making coffee and think, “Huh. Maybe they’ll cancel classes today”.

It’s leaving your sunroof open during the biggest rain storm of the summer.
And trying to explain what happened without laughing so he won’t think you’re irresponsible.

It’s waking up in the middle of the night from a dream. But not just any dream. The dream. The sky was the ground and the ground was…..and your best friend Kati was in it and she was climbing trees with your cousin. But they’ve never met. And the trees glowed in the dark. You’ve got to tell Kati. But it’s 3am now and you’ll remember in the morning. But now it’s 7am and you’re late for work. And what was that dream again…..you remember the feeling of it but you can’t catch it long enough to attach words to it.
What was it….
It doesn’t matter