He tells me, “Go back to the closest stop and catch the tram. I’ll join you on the next stop.”

In the same manner as we came, we’ll travel together but apart.

I nod, welcoming the chance to flee what had become a partially walled-in trap, and hurry off without another word.

Only when I climb aboard alone does it dawn on me that neither of us said goodbye.

***

As if but strangers, we sit on opposite ends of the transport. No interaction. No eye contact. Nothing to connect us.

The tram jostles and rattles down streets. Passengers get on and off, obscuring Arie from my periphery. When at last we approach his block, I grip my hands on my lap. Folks shuffle off, others on. Then the tram lurches forward, and I sneak a glance at Arie’s seat. Another man has taken his place.

An ache sets in, a recurring throb. I refrain from looking out the window for reasons beyond caution.

The tram continues on its tracks.

From pondering what’s to come, the dangers awaiting tomorrow, it takes me a moment to register the sound.

A blaring wail.

An air raid.

How can that be? It’s daylight yet. Is it only a drill? Even if real, the alert is meant to give plenty of warning. But passengers are craning their necks out the windows, searching the skies.

The tram shudders to a halt, and I notice a hum woven into the rise and fall of the siren. I jump up and join the crowd pouring into the street. Amid the confusion, I trace the path of fingers pointing upward.

Dots. So many. Hundreds. A thousand. Sunlight reflects off what appear to be bare-aluminum bodies, suggesting American bombers. In their wakes, streaks of white vapor plow the blue sky as the buzzing grows.

Headed west, they’ll drop their payloads on Hitler’s factories. But not here. Here we’re safe.

This is what I tell myself a split second before the scream. A woman gestures frantically to a bomber broken from the swarm, descending in a steep dive as if on a mission. Objects are falling from its underbelly, plunging toward the earth.

Bombs. Targeting the city. Civilians.

A man yells to take cover as a distant explosion reverberates. Smoke billows on the horizon, and panic sweeps through me.

The crowd is scattering. I need to find the closest shelter. But where?

Anti-aircraft guns are firing, the buzz surging. The planes and their contrails are blotting out the sun.

Through the commotion, someone grabs my hand, and I turn.

Arie.

“Come with me,” he says, and so without thinking, I do.

Chapter 70