Six years ago tonight I shut down my phone and took a last look around my apartment. Six years ago tonight I tried to decide what to grab and try to stuff into the carry-on I was allowed to leave with.
Six years ago today the gunfire was so loud and so close I thought “they” were hunting us. Six years ago today I lay under a table in the dining hall my arms linked with two former students who were now staff. Six years ago today I watched the tracer bullets fly by the window in both directions, but mostly from East to West.