The Sky is Changing by Zoë Jenny Page A

in the world she would ever leave her job to live with him in New York. She looked at him, chewing on the limp crust of a lukewarm margarita pizza. With glistening eyes, he took her hand, stroking it as if he was saying goodbye to her hand rather then her. “You are too sensitive for all of this, you know,” he said. “I really hope someone will make you happy one day.”
    As so often happened, it was a clash of interests that brought the relationship to an end. There was no row, no fight when they parted, just the sharp sadness that comes with letting go. But she would have no time to miss him, or anyone else for that matter, as the three months before Christmas were the busiest of the year. With every single show sold out, she would be on stage almost every night, dancing with a disciplined smile. Because she had worked the previous weekend, Tuesday 11th of September was a free day and she was supposed to give her body a rest.
    Claire spent all morning in the bath, refilling it with hot water as it cooled down, thinking of Morgan and yet another failed relationship. Licking her wounds, she decided not to leave the house for the rest of the day. It was around three o’clock; she had just settled in front of the TV, watching Tom and Jerry and eating her favourite vanilla ice-cream with chocolate chips out of the tub, when Anne called.
    From her agitated voice she could tell something was wrong, but when she switched, from Tom chasing Jerry, to the news channel, her first reaction was a fit of laughter. That must be some sort of a stunt, surely, what she saw could not really be happening. One of the towers of the World Trade Center was on fire. A huge pillar of black smoke ascended into the blue sky. It was a golden day in New York and it almost looked beautiful, like the graphic work of an edgy artist.
    â€œClaire, this is not a joke, it’s real,” Anne said with a grave voice. “An airplane flew into the tower. A lot of people died.”
    It took some time to take her words in. The presenter was looking increasingly nervous, as if he couldn’t believe himself what he was reporting. “And I just received a message there is a second plane,” he stumbled, and there it was, a white plane like a fastapproaching arrow, which crashed into the second tower.
    â€œOh, my God,” Anne yelled into the phone. “What the fuck!” Claire could hear Karl in the background shouting. The presenter was stepping back as if he was suddenly thrown off balance.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Claire whispered, but Anne didn’t reply. Even the presenter remained silent, watching as the massive explosion created a cloud of smoke of atomic proportions. In seconds, and in front of her eyes, the pinnacle of the world had turned into hell. Quickly, the presenter picked himself up again, delivering the news like pieces of a puzzle that he was keen to get completed. It wasn’t just a horrible accident but an attack. Terror. That was the word that was used over and over again, delivered with a seriousness which made it clear that from now on people would have to get used to it. A word like a stab in the back. Terror.
    â€œDo you remember when we went up there?” Anne asked with a battered voice. It was on a trip to New York with their parents, Anne and she were still children. Claire remembered the big dark elevator that took them up to the Windows on the World restaurant on the 106th floor. It was exciting to be so incredibly high up, and a bit scary too. They were holding hands when they pressed their noses against the window, looking down at the Hudson River with the boats as small as toys. “Of course, I remember. You were scared because Dad told us that at that height the towers always sway a little in the wind.”
    Suddenly Anne shouted into the receiver. There was some movement on the top floor of the tower above the fire, but it took a moment for Claire to realise