I wake up and—without a minute wasted—my mum and I pack up our stuff. We’re leaving.
Aside from our emergency backpacks, I take my laptop to keep myself entertained. My mum’s packing food, water and other supplies that I gladly carry on my shoulders.
We leave our lights on—there are looters in the area—and lock the door. It takes us an hour to reach my grandparents’ country house on foot. Car after car passes us. People are armed—I think they’re from the territorial defence who guard crucial infrastructure and buildings that might be targeted.
Each and every business is closed. Public transport has stopped bringing people to their destinations. It’s eerie—the silence only interrupted by the wind.
Once we reach the country house, we make a deal with my grandparents. We stay together.
Tonight, I only hear distant explosions.