(sidd_)

Such places are few and far between, these grand islands of eternity in the soupy, ever changing world of the living. New York had its share of forever-places. The greatest of these stood near Manhattan's southern-most tip: the two gray brothers to the green statue in the bay. The towers had found their heaven. They were a part of Everlost now, held fast, and held forever by the memories of a mourning world, and by the dignity of the souls who got where they were going on that dark September day.