“Dad,” he said,
            “I think I’m coming home.”
             I was silent.
            He was breathing scared breaths.
            He was silent.
            “What’s wrong?” I asked.

            “Last night,
            we were attacked.”

            I was silent,
            trying to visualize.
            “Don’t worry,” he said.
            “We got to the underground
            bunker.”

            “You’re okay?”
            “Yes,” he said calmly.
            “What?”
            “A missile came through
            the concrete ceiling 
            and buried up in the concrete wall—
            close enought to have killed all of us.
            “Get on the next flight,” I said.
            “forget the  job.”
            “We’re on the flight to
            Dabei.”
            “We?” I asked.
            “Me and my girlfriend,” he said.
            “We’re going there to get married
            before we come home.”