"Venti caramel macchiato with two pumps of caramel." I said to the barista while pulling out my wallet. He laughed from behind the counter.  "First off, I don't speak Italian. And we have coffee. Black coffee. And maybe some cream if you're lucky." I knew that look he was giving me. He knew I wasn't from here, and he was right. I am from Manhattan. Like the city that never sleeps? Yeah, that's me, or it used to be. "I guess I'm having coffee then." I said and sat down at the counter. "I'm surprised you're not on your way back home, considering the past few days." He set my coffee on the counter. I handed over some cash. "My accent is that thick?" I laughed and sipped my coffee. He smiled. The hot liquid burned my tongue, but I said nothing.
He looked at me. "Why are you here? In this ghost town? Nothing happens here. Ever." I put my coffee down on the table. "I need a change."  I grabbed my purse and headed towards the door. "Trust me, this isn't the change you need." He said. I smiled at him and grabbed the door handle. "Wait," he said, "people don't come in here too often. Stay a little longer?" He threw a towel around his shoulder. I walked back to the counter where my coffee still had steam coming off the top of it.
An antique television rested on the back counter. Dust collected on the screen. He wiped it off with his white long sleeve shirt and pressed the power button. Static covered the screen followed by a subtle humming noise. He connected a chord from the outlet to the back of the television. The static turned into a news reporter. Her voice was filled with despair. "After the break, more breaking news about the attacks in New York. Stay tuned." She said. Even the commercials were talking about the accident, or attack rather. "Why aren't you with your family?" He asked, while lowering the volume. "That's a story for another day." I said still looking at the television. A grin appeared in the corner of his mouth. "So, I'll see you again sometime?" He said. I smiled back. "I'm moving here. So, yes."
          I walked to the back of the coffee shop. A wooden board filled with papers rested on the back wall. Job opportunities. Yard work. Lost dog. "Those are about two years old. No one cares enough to take them down." He said. I grabbed a piece of paper from the board and took it down. "Maybe it's time that someone starts caring about this place." I said. I walked back to the counter where my coffee was. The news came on again.
   "I was there." I starred out the window and saw the wind blow through the vacant streets. "Where?" He asked, paying little attention to what I had just said. "The towers." I sipped my coffee. He stopped and looked at me.  "Two planes crash into your work place that have been highjacked by terrorists and you decide to make a life change by moving to a ghost town?" He turned his back towards me. I stared blankly at him. "I wasn't planning on coming here. In fact, I didn't even know this town existed until I drove up to it." He glanced at me over his shoulder. "I was just sitting at my desk and then my life blew up in front of me. After the initial attack, I laid on the floor of my office. At first, all I heard was a ringing. Then, once I started to realize what had happened, the screams of people dying was all that I could hear. I stumbled out of my office with blood dripping down my head from hitting it on the corner of my desk." He was now staring at me in shock. "At first, I tried to save them, but they were already gone. With blood covering my hands I ran down the staircase and out of the building. I looked at what had happened. And I realized that I could never be the same person that I was. As long as I stayed in Manhattan, those horrendous screams would always be echoing in the back of my mind. So, I got in my car and I left." I starred blank at the coffee grinds left in my mug. "You start tomorrow." He said.