The fire in the final floor was raging. He had no time to think, the human riptide shoved him mercilessly to the windows. They were frantically going for the windows. Like persistent waves they hit them, again and again, their hands scratching at the smooth glass surface.

Someone threw an office chair and managed to crack it. The deluge hit the glass again. They broke it and he was at the forefront. Suddenly they stopped as the cold thin wind slapped their faces.

His feet though were rooted to the ground. (The stairs would be worse.) The second plane hit in the distance. He took the step and as he was falling, his knee slightly bent, he thought of his mother.