No. 17/100 100-word short stories for my 100 follower celebration!

If I reach out right now, it’s like I can almost touch that distant memory. The smell of the city fills my nostrils. My mom’s hand holds on tightly to mine. But none of that matters.

There’s a barrier in front of me but I can see the demolished landscape beyond. It fills me with something cold and wrong, but I don’t know what. It looks too flat amongst this world of towering skyscrapers.

It takes years before I understand what I saw, and yet the memory sticks with me all that time. Somehow, I just knew it was important. 

. . .

This is a memory of the first time my family went back to visit New York City after 9/11. It’s always struck me as strange that I remembered this sight from when I was about seven or eight years old even though I didn’t understand the significance of it until much later.

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