Just a UPS delivery man doing his job (2001)

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The September sun beat down on Ernie's neck as he lumbered out of his beat-up brown UPS truck. The air hung heavy, thick with the premonition of a coming storm. It was a Tuesday in September 2001, just another ordinary day for a UPS delivery man in a quiet corner of Queens, New York.

Ernie adjusted his uniform, the familiar brown a second skin after ten years on the job. He scanned his list – a mix of office supplies, a birthday gift for a kid down the street, and a mysterious package addressed to a high-rise office building across the avenue. Business as usual.

He navigated the maze of apartment buildings, the rhythmic thump of his worn boots a familiar soundtrack to the neighborhood. A stray baseball bounced off a stoop, nearly clipping his ankle. He chuckled, shaking his head – these kids and their endless games.

Reaching the high-rise, he entered the cool, dimly lit lobby. The receptionist, a young woman with bright red lipstick, barely glanced up from her magazine as he signed the logbook. "Just dropping off a package for Mr. Thompson, 37th floor," he said with a practiced smile.

The elevator hummed as it ascended, the silence broken only by the muffled strains of elevator music. Ernie stepped out onto the 37th floor, the cityscape sprawling out before him like a concrete jungle. He found Mr. Thompson's office, a glass-walled corner suite that offered a breathtaking view of the Hudson River.

He knocked, then pushed the door open a crack. A young man in a sharp suit sat hunched over his computer, a phone pressed to his ear. Ernie stood there for a moment, the man's urgent voice filling the room. It was a language Ernie didn't understand – finance jargon, he figured.

"Just a sec," the man said into the phone, his voice strained. He glanced up, startled, then forced a smile. "Delivery for Mr. Thompson?"

"Yup," Ernie said, stepping into the office. He placed the package on the desk. "Sign here, please."

The man scanned the package, his brow furrowed. "What is it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Beats me," Ernie shrugged. "Just a box."

He watched as the man signed the delivery slip, his hand trembling slightly. An unsettling feeling gnawed at Ernie, but he pushed it down. It wasn't his place to pry.

"Thanks," the man mumbled, his eyes glued to the TV mounted on the wall across the room. Ernie caught a glimpse of the breaking news – a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center towers.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Ernie's heart pounded in his chest. This wasn't just another delivery. This package, this building, this entire city – something had changed irrevocably.

He forced a smile, a hollow gesture in the face of the unfolding horror. "Stay safe," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

The young man didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the TV screen. Ernie left the office, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He walked back to his truck, the city skyline now marred by smoke and flames. He was just a UPS delivery man, but in that moment, he felt like he'd witnessed history in the making.

The image of the young man, his face pale with shock, stayed with Ernie long after he finished his route. It was a stark reminder that even the most ordinary day can be forever marked by extraordinary events. He was just a UPS delivery man, but on that day in September 2001, he became a silent witness to a world forever chang