I was 24, unemployed, and living in Chicago. Since Chicago is an hour behind New York, it was still kind of early in the morning and I was asleep. I woke up to the phone ringing, answered it, and it turned out to be my mother sounding extremely freaked out, in a way I've never heard her sound before or since. At this point both planes had already crashed into the WTC and the plane had also already crashed into the Pentagon. Flight 93 was still MIA.
When I got off the phone I immediately turned on the TV. Not too much later my roommate returned from work because they had sent everyone home. Her and I sat there watching the news unfold all day and into the night. I remember hearing fighter planes roaring overhead all day long, patrolling the skies over the city.
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