April 19th
Unforgettable for the Oklahoman
I remember every year.
I was in seventh grade at the time, 1995.
I was small and young,
but angry, sad about the loss,
wishing I could just get in past the yellow tape
and help someone.
Something, anything.
A piece of rubble from the building still sits in my apartment, a token of remembrance. A chunk of stone can mean so much more, from one second to the next.
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