What I noticed first was that the door wasn’t as huge as I remembered it to be. I turned the knob opening the door on noisy hinges.
Inside were hundreds of people sitting in front of computers hammering out stories of love, or war, or love lost. They were writing stories about everything under the sun.

No, that’s not true. There was no one inside this huge musty building. The desks were bare, the chairs abandoned where they had been shoved back. Was it just a trick from the sunlight filtering through unwashed windows that gave the impression of people.
There, I heard it! The soft clattering of keys on a keyboard.
I turned, smiling. My smile melted as my eyes focused on a rather large calendar being buffeted by the breeze through the open door.
My eyes teared up as I recalled all the bright young writers with high hopes. I can only hope they are still writing. This country needs their creativeness. I removed the calendar from the wall. Jan.15th 2009 was circled in black. The day of infamy.