The Strange Aftermath of a '90s Mass Shooting Is Still Teaching Me Lessons Today
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It’s nearly midnight on December 7, 1993. I’m lying in bed in my Long Island apartment. I can’t sleep, but at least I’m alive. That’s not the case for the dying who’ve been brought to the hospital just outside my window. My bedroom blinds are closed, but the light from the emergency room parking lot across the street is so bright that it paints dozens of thin white lines across the ceiling above me. I can’t stop staring at that light, a physical reminder of just how close the hospital is to our home.
The Strange Aftermath of a '90s Mass Shooting Is Still Teaching Me Lessons Today
The Strange Aftermath of a '90s Mass Shooting…
The Strange Aftermath of a '90s Mass Shooting Is Still Teaching Me Lessons Today
It’s nearly midnight on December 7, 1993. I’m lying in bed in my Long Island apartment. I can’t sleep, but at least I’m alive. That’s not the case for the dying who’ve been brought to the hospital just outside my window. My bedroom blinds are closed, but the light from the emergency room parking lot across the street is so bright that it paints dozens of thin white lines across the ceiling above me. I can’t stop staring at that light, a physical reminder of just how close the hospital is to our home.