It was the end of the day, and Mac was driving through the city that he called home. In one hand was his cell phone as he kept dialling the numbers of all of his wife's friends, her family, trying to see if they had heard from her. No one had. He stopped at all her favourite places to eat and to shop, but they had not seen her there either.

He banged the dash in frustration, and called her name in anguish, and he felt his cheeks dampen with tears. They had fought that morning, and she had said that it was the last time, that she couldn't handle the amount of time that he put in at his job. She knew that he was doing an important service to the city, but after his marine career, she didn't want to have to keep wondering is he was ever going to make it home at the end of the day. She wasn't asking him to stop doing the job that he loved, just to call he now and then to let her know that he was alright, to just come home a couple times a week at a normal time. She didn't think this was too much to ask. She had only wanted to spend some time with her husband, the man that she loved. But if he wasn't willing to take any kind of interest in their marriage, than maybe they would both be better off on their own.

Instead of listening to her, trying to work it out then, like he knows he should have, he argued back, defending his job, that he had to do it, to help keep her safe. She slammed the door as she left, telling him that if he wasn't home at a decent time that night, that she wouldn't be there to greet him that night.

On his way to work, he heard about the attack, and he had hoped that she hadn't gone into work that day. He hoped that she had been too upset to go to work early that morning.

Sitting at a bench in a park outside the city he received the call that she had been at her office when the attack had come. That she had been in the towers when the planes struck. That she had not made it out with others from the buildings. Of course she wouldn't have made it out, she worked on one of the floors that was instantly destroyed by the planes, the same side the collision was on, did they expect her to have made it out?

Numbly he hung up his phone. He looked back over that morning, and instead of arguing with her, he saw himself pulling her into his arms and kissing her deeply, showing his full feelings to her. He saw himself sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed room, to show her that she was the most important thing in the world to him. He saw himself making them both late for work and keeping her from her floor when the planes hit the twin towers. How can he go on knowing that he could have saved her from death, just by showing her, that morning how he loved her, how much he desired her.

On his drive back into the city he was caught in traffic because of a accident up ahead. He looked out the widow of the far side of the car, and saw some red wildflowers growing on the side of the road, waving in the breeze, looking sad because he, nor anyone else had picked them to give to a loved one.