This story is dedicated to those in the Twin Towers, Pentagon, United Airlines Flights 93 and 175, and American Airlines Flights 11 and 77 who never saw their loved ones again. You will forever be missed.

To the survivors of the attacks on the Twin Towers and Pentagon, who represent our will to survive even under extreme circumstances. You are our legacy.

To the rescuers who selflessly risked their lives to locate the fallen men, women, and survivors of the attacks. You are our heroes.

And to the families who lost someone, whether a brother, sister, mother, father, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandmother, or grandfather on September 11, 2001. Our prayers and thoughts go out to you on this day.

We will never forget.

Challenge 23: Sensation Of Loss

Marty Green kneeled outside of Green Meats, a gentle breeze blowing upon him and some flowers he held. He was looking at the names etched into the stone outside of his door, baring his and his two brother's names, Benji and Dave. His eyes were bloodshot and he had bags under them, showing his lack of sleep. He couldn't sleep last night, the memories of that day reoccurring in his mind. He opened the door to the shop as his mind wandered off.

The day had started off as ordinary as any other. Marty had woken up at 7:00 am as he did every day. He walked to his shop, the sun just rising over the horizon to signal another day. He entered and turned the key, a lock clicking as he opened the door. He entered the back of the shop and changed into his uniform, placing his paper hat on top of his head. He took out some meat from the freezer and placed the different cuts in the display case for the customers to see.

When he was done he swept the floor and flipped the sign on the door from closed to open. He stood behind the counter and patiently waited for the first customer to arrive. After a while, he ran to the back and checked the time. The clock said 8:30. He went back to the front of the shop and continued to wait. He saw a few kids pass his shop on their way to school, laughing loudly and talking. One of them was his apprentice, Harold. Mr. Green smiled, knowing how Harold probably couldn't wait to work this evening. Mr. Green chuckled to himself as he got up and went into his office in the back. He sat down in a chair and grabbed yesterday's newspaper, shifting through the news for something he might not have seen.

The phone rang. Mr. Green set down the newspaper and got up, picking up the phone.

"Hello, Green Meats. This is Marty."

"Marty, it's Dave."

Mr. Green gasped. He hadn't talked to Dave for years. What was he calling now for?

"Hey Dave, what are you calling me for?" questioned Mr. Green

"Marty... I'm not sure how to say this. But this morning, New York City was attacked. You remember what Benji does, right?"

Marty stood, paralyzed. Benji was a business man who sold stocks on Wall Street. His main office was located in the World Trade Center.

"Yeah," choked out Marty.

"Marty… there has been an… incident. The World Trade Center has been attacked by two planes."

Marty stood stunned, barely holding the phone to his ear as he struggled to breathe. The idea of Benji hurt, or even killed, was unbearable. He pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket.

"Dave, is he all right?" asked Marty tearfully.

"I can't get a hold of him. I'll keep you updated though. I just wanted to let you know," finished Dave. Marty dropped the phone, hearing but not registering the sound of it hitting the floor.

Benji could be dead. He hadn't seen him in years. He started to cry as Dave's call began to register. But he still didn't understand. How could two planes hit the World Trade Center? How would they get a hold of them? Did anyone else know about the attacks? There were just too many questions, and Marty sat down in his chair blowing his nose, not knowing what to do.

Marty sighed as he stood at his desk, looking at the phone where that fateful call had been made. Even after the attack, he still felt the loss of his brother on that day. And every day since then, he had left flowers in his office for Benji, to remember him. Every night before this day, he would toss and turn at the memory of his brother and how he must have died in the attack. How he would never be able to tell him how much he had missed and loved his older brother.

Marty set the flowers down and put his face in his hands, sadness overwhelming him. He lifted his face and stood up, walking to the phone. He picked it up and dialed a number. A number he now knew by heart.

"Hello," answered Dave.

"Hey Dave. How's it going?" asked Marty.

"I'm doing fine. How are you Marty?" reciprocated Dave.

"I'm doing all right. Rough night though," answered Marty.

Marty and Dave began to chat, passing away the time as they talked. Marty didn't have anything to really say, he just wanted to hear Dave, to let him know how much he meant to him. The conversation would inevitably turn to Benji and that September day. But for now, Marty just wanted to talk to Dave.