RP: Never Forget
Date: September 11, 2011
Characters: Maureen Gibbons
Location: Wine bar near Sunshine Diner
Status: Public
Summary: Maureen remembers.
Completion: Complete
Her hands were shaky as they wrapped around the stem of the wine glass. She'd held it together throughout her shift, throughout Layla coming in for dinner and talking about how her essay that was due the next day about the Day and how 9-11 had changed her life. She'd bit her tongue, listening as her daughter went on about travel restrictions and code orange. Layla had been all of two, the day that the Towers had fallen and she had wondered absently if this is what her mother had felt like when she had talked about learning the history of the Vietnam War.
She sipped, needing the balance and watching the broadcasts on the television in the corner. She'd asked, ever-so-quietly, as she came in if they minded. The server had nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder as she heard her New York accent thicken in her ears, something that rarely occurred any more.
She had had friends in the Towers, classmates. She went to take another sip and found her glass empty, waving the server over and asking for another. She drank to her friends, their families. To all the lives lost, to all the children missing their fathers and mothers. To the firefighters, to the paramedics and first responders. To those lost in the war that came after, or lost ones in the war.
Characters: Maureen Gibbons
Location: Wine bar near Sunshine Diner
Status: Public
Summary: Maureen remembers.
Completion: Complete
Her hands were shaky as they wrapped around the stem of the wine glass. She'd held it together throughout her shift, throughout Layla coming in for dinner and talking about how her essay that was due the next day about the Day and how 9-11 had changed her life. She'd bit her tongue, listening as her daughter went on about travel restrictions and code orange. Layla had been all of two, the day that the Towers had fallen and she had wondered absently if this is what her mother had felt like when she had talked about learning the history of the Vietnam War.
She sipped, needing the balance and watching the broadcasts on the television in the corner. She'd asked, ever-so-quietly, as she came in if they minded. The server had nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder as she heard her New York accent thicken in her ears, something that rarely occurred any more.
She had had friends in the Towers, classmates. She went to take another sip and found her glass empty, waving the server over and asking for another. She drank to her friends, their families. To all the lives lost, to all the children missing their fathers and mothers. To the firefighters, to the paramedics and first responders. To those lost in the war that came after, or lost ones in the war.