Kayla Bergeron can still describe that morning in matter-of-fact detail: She was dutifully working at her desk on the 68th floor when the building lurched. Someone ran in and said that a plane had hit — a small plane, she assumed. She realised it must not have been just a Cessna.

And then how she began a harrowing descent in a stairwell that was dark and wet because pipes had burst as the twin towers collapsed.

She can also describe her life since, including the loss of a new job, the foreclosure of her condominium, the two convictions for drunken

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