New York and 60 stories of falling glass

I had no idea my life could end that day. It was autumn in New York, I had been there for 10 days and had spent practically every daylight hour holed up in my hotel room working for the army of clients I was representing there. I was making a lot of money but I was exhausted and I missed my family. Finally after completing my projects I had 6 hours to kill before I had to leave to catch my plane. I planned to spend those hours outside in the sun. The weather was perfect “autumn in Manhattan’-- crisp, colorful and brisk. I set off for Bryant Park, a slice of peace behind the New York Public Library, and walking from 59th I headed down 6th Avenue. A vendor beguiled me to buy a purse and then I picked up a banana at the next. This was more like it, I could finally relax, breathe even. As I stepped into a crosswalk with several other New Yorkers I heard a large resounding crack and looked up. Way up above us was what looked like be a giant piece of cardboard wafting down. I barely had time to think about why a large piece of cardboard would float down from the top of a huge skyscraper when a voice shouted in my head, “Run!” Still looking up I realized it wasn’t cardboard but a city-block-sized piece of glass falling from the building to our right and it was huge enough to crush all of us. (more later)