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On the morning of Sept. 11, 2001, I wandered away from my desk in the newsroom where I was working, likely looking for something to eat or caffeine to jump-start my day.
On the way back, uneager to get the morning’s work started, I strolled through the front office and stopped to chat near the front door. Above the main desk, a television was showing live images of a smoking high-rise in New York.
“A plane hit one of the towers,” the receptionist told me.
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