Різні люди

“Day twenty-seven.”

“The thirty-second day is drawing to a close.”

I remember 24 February. As for the rest, it’s all a blur. A siren. A hallway. The rule of two walls. One for the blast, the other for its fragments. 

The elevator is out of service. Walking downstairs is a whole other story for my father. For my mother too. The last flight has no railings. I hadn’t noticed that. My father halts.

It thuds nearby, loud. No pauses. Leaving the building is frightening. Frightening, too, to stay there. We leave. Outside, the explosions are even stronger.

A house has lost its corner, living rooms exposed. A hanging chandelier, a wardrobe nearby. It’s stage design – of warfare.