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Just when they were getting used to the popping noise that accompanied the red flashes, their building was rocked by an astoundingly loud BOOM! The windows trembled. Jessie jumped over Anne's bed and found Anne flat on her back with a pillow covering her face and stomach. Deciding that it couldn't hurt, Jessie did the same. They lay in silence, then began to laugh hysterically. First one, than the other, went to the bathroom. "Do do da da do do do do do do da da."
The cell phone chimed, the canned ringer sounding absurd in context. "Hello, Benedicte" said Anne. It was her sister. "Pop pop pop," went the artillery. "Tu l'as vu sur LCI?" continued Anne. Her sister had been ironing when she saw the news on French T.V. Israel was bombing a power plant on the edge of Beirut. Anne told her that they were indeed in the midst of what felt like a war, and she was scared. Benedicte was frantic on the other line. "You guys should get dressed and call somebody who can tell you who to call and where to go. Is there any shelter in your building?" she asked. Afterwards, they lay silent on the floor, spent. "I wonder whether we'll have to go home," mused Jessie, legs still trembling. Following Benedicte's advice, they decided that they should prepare themselves for an evacuation. They changed into clothes that they could run in. They put on the glasses they both needed to see, and waited, eyes on the sky.
BOOM! It came again. "That's the one I hate," said Jessie from her position on the floor. She moved over once more to Anne's side of the room because it was the furthest corner from both windows. For all they knew, the next BOOM! could shatter them. That is, if the next bomb didn't fall on their heads. Jessie thought of the house that their landlord was building on the roof, a model of post-war optimism, with four glass walls. She wondered how it was withstanding the bombardment. In need of direction, the women wondered whom to call. They couldn't afford to call their families, and given the call with Benedicte that probably wasn't a good idea, anyway. They decided against the two female reporters they had only met twice and the Very Influential Man who was facilitating some of their interviews. Against Wael, their 21-year-old friend, because they didn't want to disturb his family. That left Georges the neighbor, a 27-year-old son of a government official.
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