What do I know?

She screams at me, “Where is he? Where is my husband?” I calmly say, “I don’t know.”

A husband calls. “Does she have the kids? Are they still at Trinity Church?” Again, I don’t know.

My father asks me, “Is your sister still contracted to Cantor-Fitzgerald? Where is she working today? Why doesn’t she answer her phone?!?” I don’t know.

Henry the CEO inquires, "Will our life insurance will pay out for any of our staff killed? Or, is this considered an act of war?" I don't know.

Fred queries through sobs, “Does the building collapse mean my boyfriend is crushed in the rumble of the PATH station below?” I don’t know.

It occurs to Nicol that we have witnessed the sudden and total disintegration of the offices of our sole client before our very eyes. She ponders, “How does this impact payroll next week? Will I have enough money for rent?” I don’t know.

Will this event force our struggling firm into bankruptcy? When I close the gate over the doors tonight will they be closed forever? Will those who keep their lives lose their jobs? I don’t know.

I am responsible for more than 120 people. 93 are missing. Unaccounted for. Are they safe? Are they hurt? Are they even alive? When, if ever, will I know? I don’t know.

The dark and ponderous specter of that once promising, sunny Tuesday will haunt me as long as I have brain cells that are chemically active.

THAT is ALL I know.