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He gave me a chunk of glass. 他给我一块玻璃。 My husband was killed on 9/11; he worked in 1 WTC, well above the impact floors. On his birthday in March, 2002, I went to the site that used to be the WTC. It wasn’t cleaned up yet, in fact it was ugly as hell and smelled about the same, and access was still pretty chaotic. I got to the Century 21 department store across the street, and stood against the wall - and just crumbled. Broke down. 我丈夫死于911事件，他在世贸中心一号楼工作，就在被撞击楼层上面。2002年3月他生日时，我去了世贸中心旧址，那里还没有被清理干净，看起来闻起来就像地狱一般，通往那儿的道路也一片混乱，我去了马路对面的21世纪百货商店，靠墙站着，心都要碎了，我要崩溃了。 A guy who was working across the street at the site - which was still a full-on disaster area - saw me and came across. “Who did you lose?” he asked. “My husband,” I said, through ugly tears, and I told the guy what firm my husband had worked for, and that it was his birthday. 马路对面当时完全就是灾难现场，一个工作人员看见我了就走过来问我：“你失去什么亲人了？”我说：“我丈夫”，我哭得很难看，跟他说我丈夫之前在哪个公司工作，那天是他的生日。 Guy turned out to be a firefighter. Reached into his front pocket. “This is actually really rare. Not a lot of glass survived; it just vaporized.” And he pressed it into my hand. | 
