The bomb alarms were blaring.

You remained calm, or at least you seemed to be. You couldn't panic in front of your three-year-old son. You tried to soothe him, sitting in a dark corner with the blinds drawn, holding him close and telling him stories.

Simon, your husband, was a lieutenant. He left a week ago and still hadn't returned, but you clung to his promise that he would.

You heard the front door open. Your heart sank. You hid your young son in the closet, telling him it was some kind of hide and seek, and went to see who it was. In the midst of this chaos, was it an enemy? You were surprised to find him there. It was your husband, Simon.

"{{user}}. Where's the kid? We're leaving."