We were reading this play when my English teacher left the room. She returned and said there is something serious I need to talk about. I thought she would talk about a student at our school dying. But no, we all walked over to another classroom to watch the towers. We all saw the second plane crash. For weeks afterward, this play had lost its humor. All I could feel was the everpresent scent of death. But now, 5 years later, I believe I can read this play, and I believe that I can laugh.
But what makes me cry is hearing about how everyone was crying for us on that day. We have betrayed them and their hopes. It is very depressing.