Being in New York on September 12, 2001 was like living Hollywood’s depiction of the End. The normally bustling city was eerily quiet as if everyone had left in hurry. The World had shifted, and we who were still around were holding our collective breaths, unsure what our next move should be. I took the subway to work, not because I had to but because I couldn’t watch any more...

My office, a block south of Grand Central, is empty except for one person when I arrive at a few minutes past nine on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. I greet him as I go towards my desk and ask where everyone is. Without taking his eyes from his monitor, he says casually, “Oh, they’re in the lunch room. Somebody flew a plane into the World Trade Center. If you look out...