Michael Hingson was on the 78th floor of the North Tower on September 11, 2001. He has been blind since birth. His guide dog, Roselle, was under his desk when the plane hit. The building lurched. Smoke filled the offices. People shouted. Roselle stood, calm, and waited for the harness. They went into Stairwell B and started down. Seventy-eight floors. Firefighters passed them going up. Jet fuel burned in the air. A woman stopped, too afraid to keep walking. Hingson talked her forward. Roselle never pulled away, never panicked, never stopped. They reached the lobby and then the street. Minutes later the South Tower fell and a wall of dust rolled over them. Roselle kept leading. Hingson lived. Roselle lived. They walked out of a building that would not be standing an hour later. He has spent the years since telling the story not as a miracle of sight, but as a story of trust: a man who could not see the stairs, and a dog who did not need to be told that the only way out was down. Remember Michael Hingson. Remember Roselle. Remember everyone who started down those stairs and never reached the street.