I was on my way into the King’s Cross Underground station, just under the grand façade and through the turnstiles, when all hell broke loose. I didn’t see any fire or explosions, but I knew something was horribly wrong. I followed everyone else running away, back out to the street. The sky buzzed with helicopters. I’ll never forget the police and fire sirens; the tone and pitch of the city changed in an instant. I didn’t have anywhere to go or anyone to talk to. I was just a dumb kid with a backpack.
