I had just woken up when I tried to phone my dad. It was a usual occurrence for me to phone him which had somewhat become a tradition. Each day I would call him around 8: 45 am. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. I begin to bite my fingernails with anticipation. The phone rings one last time.
I heard my dad speak on the other end, “This is the office of Tom Bassy, today is September 11, and I should be in the office all day. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can.”
“Hey dad, I assume you went to the bathroom so I’ll try you later, bye.”
I walk downstairs to see my mom cooking up some eggs. I turned on the television to watch something while I wait for the food to be ready. Flipping through channels, I eventually come upon the news. The commercial break ends and I stare at the TV in horror. Dropping the remote to the hard ground, my jaw hangs open in shock and confusion. I couldn’t believe what I saw. My mom calls for me about breakfast, but I was cemented in place. Tears begin to swell up in my eyes as my mom walks over to see the television. We were unable to comprehend the news that appeared before us. Hannah Montana tickets were sold out.