It was St. Patrick’s Day. I know that but can’t be sure it counts as remembering, since the newsreels and papers immediately named the accident for the holiday. We attended no parades, had no plans to witness anything spectacular that day. We only meant to welcome home the Professor—returning from another speaking engagement for which I was the thesis—before the train collided with the station and changed everything.

I can’t recall precisely why we left the ladies’ room; that’s one of the many intermediary details my memory has discarded. In this memory, it’s been deemed insignificant, but I suspect that one day, if another tapestry is in need of embroidery, I may remember. Instead of only briefly seeing Camille cross beneath the archway, impatient and excited for the Professor’s train to arrive, perhaps I will recall why she asked me to go outside. She may have needed a moment of fresh air and I was willing, both of us hoping a walk would pass the time.

There was a busy crowd outside Windsor Station, and this crowd froze in place after the train crashed into its southern wall, exposing the overnight from Boston. Professor Toutant was on board, and we had no hope of finding him quickly. Deafened by the ungodly sound, we had no hope at all.

There was something misleading about the way the wall busted without entirely breaking. A shattered quiet descended on the station, tuned to the nerves of passersby who were now standing or crouching stunned; then everything began to move again. Voices returned, both agitated and strangely calm. All things considered, the damage to the outside of the station was slight. The damage to the interior of the station was another story altogether. The waiting room was destroyed, run through and collapsing. The concourse, once bright and wide and laced overhead with shimmering beams and precisely wound clocks, was a battlefield—at least that’s the way people were describing it. And that’s what I remember most: people either rushing around describing graphic images for those of us who couldn’t see or else remaining immobile, as though the whole world had shaken and might begin again.