There was this old people's home where a couple lived, a man and a women. I remember helping the man pick things up when he went for walks because he dropped a lot, such as good and coins. The man was really sweet. The man died and we were going to his funeral on the day of 9/11. We saw the planes go over our heads as we walked. The grandma and I both survived and I dedicated myself to her because the death left her heartbroken. I visitors her all the time just to keep her company. She started to grow really fat and lazy and would always look sad. People in the home, volunteers, were always making fun of her and complaining about having to help her. There was one man I found leaving her room when I came in. He whispered, "Good luck with this one." I flipped out on him. We started fighting and these cage walls came up around us out of no where. He ended up admitting he had a terrible job that he needed for money because he was poor. His job was to walk through the areas where attack dogs were kept to keep them "alert" and he would get beaten by them until someone came to remove them. He said he became cold and mean because of it and how he hates the world. He left and I returned to the grandma. She passed away. It was extremely sad, I woke up and there were tears in my eyes.