Choking Game by Yveta Germano

eyes when I picture it in my head. Weird, right? But that's what I remember. The next thing I must have seen was some kind of a flash. I can't quite recall what it was. When I got a little bigger, I'd always tell Mom that I saw a dragon breathe a ball of fire that burned the skyline and turned it to ashes. I don't know how I came up with that. I must have dreamt it at some point. And then, everything was covered in this strange shade of white. For years I couldn't figure out what the exact color was, but now I can see it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. It was ashen, like a dust that covered the entire skyline. The last thing I remember is the noise, a lot of noise."
    ~What are you staring at? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?~
    "I don't know what I'm thinking. Shall I ask?"
    ~Of course. Ask!~
    "What day was that?"
    ~Yeah. You're thinking what I'm thinking.~
    "9/11," Angelica said.
    "You were in New York City on 9/11?" Luke's jaw dropped and people sitting close turned to him.
    "Mom told me years later that my dad used to work long hours sometimes even on weekends. He'd leave for work before I'd wake up and come home after I was asleep. My mom used to have breakfast with my dad near his office every now and then. She'd take me with her so that Dad could see me awake."
    "Did your dad work at one of the buildings?" Luke interrupted.
    "Building number one, ninety-seventh floor. Mom said they always met at a cafe two blocks from the Twin Towers. She said Dad wanted to see my first morning smile at least one day a week. Like I said, I was a baby. I don't remember any of that family stuff. But then something happened, and from that moment on, I remember weird bits and pieces as if they happened yesterday.
    "To this day, I can still feel my mom's arms enwrapping me while she ran outside. I think that's where I saw the bright blue color. She stood there for so long, I must have fallen asleep in her arms because the next thing I remember was this deafening, crashing sound that woke me up. It must have been the ‘dragon’ because I saw a ball of fire. Ashes must have fallen into my eyes because I can still feel the burning and scraping, even when I shut my eyes as tightly as I can. Then came the noise. It sounded from every direction. They were loud, earsplitting cries that still sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night. I don't know why I remember the screaming because I don't remember any people around me. I cannot picture a single person on that street because I was too small to remember anything at all. Still, somehow I know for sure my mom kept quiet. I don't think she made a single sound for the rest of the day."
    ~Oh, gosh, this is breaking my heart.~
    "Be quiet. I'm trying to listen here."
    "And then I remember all the colors wiped out by a thick paintbrush dipped in ashes. Everything turned light gray as if someone threw a bucket of that color all over me, my mom, and everything around us. Ashen gray. That's the color I saw for years. I thought the whole world was colorless as I was growing up."
    "Do you remember your dad?"
    ~Isn't it rude to ask about her dad?~
    "No. I don't remember him. Mom hardly ever talked about him. There was one thing I do remember. A few years later, I'm not sure exactly when—I was maybe three or four—Mom took me to the city. We rode the subway downtown and we walked close to where the Twin Towers collapsed. There was a huge, deep hole in the ground. We walked over to a nearby church that had an iron fence all around it. The fence was covered with cards and photos of people who died in the Twin Towers. Mom searched every piece of that fence until she found a weathered photo of my dad sealed in a protective piece of laminate. She took it off and put the picture in her coat pocket. "Who is it?" I asked her. "It's your daddy," she said. "It's time to take him home." "
    ~Blink those tears back in. Others are staring at the three of you.~
    "That's easier said than done. How come you're