At the Fitchburg Train Station, I had the option of waiting twenty minutes for a bus to take me to the college, or walking for fifteen minutes.

As I walked up the hill, passing through one of Fitchburg’s worst areas, there seemed to be a dullness in that pure, clear blue sky. There was an indefinable yet tangible difference in the air.

I knew my world had been forever altered.

Aubuchon Hall appeared just over the horizon, its windows reflecting the sun as if nothing was wrong. I had an image of a plane jutting into the building. It was nonsense, I know, since the hall was only 9 stories tall, but it stopped me anyway. I saw the windows shattering, the glass piercing the air and still glittering in the sun.

The image alone was disturbing; the fact that it had happened twice, not very far from where I was, was just staggering.