It was preview week of our production of Romeo and Juliet. I got up at 9am, Nevada time. Turned on NPR and heard the guy say that the White House, Capitol and Pentagon were all evacuated and that he felt vulnerable sitting in the studio in NYC. I thought it was some War of the Worlds hypothetical, or something. After a few moments, I caught on and turned on the television. I felt paralyzed with fear. I called my friend who lives right across the Hudson from the World Trade Center – his voice cracked “I’m just so fuckin’ scared,” he said. It wasn’t his style to use profanity. I told him I loved him and that I was scared, too. He told me his husband had turned around and was returning home instead of going upstate to work. I was glad to know they would be together. The news felt especially surreal because I was in Virginia City and there was heavy smoke in the air from wildfires. The sky was brown and everyone’s eyes were watering. People with asthma and other respiratory problems were using their inhalers constantly, wearing masks, taking oxygen. It felt like the end of the world. It was awhile before I learned that a high school friend was killed when her office in the second tower went down. It will never make sense and things will never be okay again.