That Night We Shared Together

I was running as soon as the sirens started screaming their warning. Soon the whirring of plane engines joined and then it was all drowned out by the explosions of the bombs.

My flight was aimless. It was a few minutes before I realised where I was. I jumped over the garden fence knowing there was a shelter. You were bemused by my unexpected entrance. Sweaty, panting, and terrified, stripped momentarily of my newfound adulthood, you instinctively comforted me.

The bombs kept falling and we started talking. Neither of us knew where our families were. We hoped they were ok. You remembered me from school, the year below and always falling over. I was embarrassed but you found me endearing. I wanted to join the army. You wanted to go to America. You laughed at my jokes and came closer to me. I got anxious and said I should leave. You said it wasn’t safe and that I should stay.

You and I came together and I do not know if the bombs stopped falling or I ceased to care. War and danger and bombs no longer mattered, only you and I, and us.

The next night the bombs fell again. But I was already at home and could not come to you. I came for you the next day. But there was only rubble to greet me and so I left, and could not decide if I had been cheated or blessed.