It was after 1 p.m. when we finally made it to the crowded McDonald’s on Times Square. My parents, two younger brothers, and I were caked with stinging white powder. It had worked its way into our clothing and our pores, and it burned so badly that both of my brothers were crying.
My dad asked the guy behind the counter for the key to the bathroom. He pointed to the end of a long line of people who stared at us as we took our place. Outside, the JumboTron kept projecting Flight 175...
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