“I’ve phoned all their numbers. Even my grandma.” Julia wraps an arm around her. The three of them are tiny. They are so small that I can hardly comprehend how they are feeling. I’m scared. I’m terrified. It’s five at night and we’ve only just finished the windows and outside gates to the backyard. Furgus, our giant wolfhound, is in the house with his tongue out nervously. He’s the most chill dog anyone in the world could ask for, but today he seems on edge. Nothing has happened, beyond the TV cutting out several times and the Wi-Fi ending completely. The other neighbors have been hammering all day, just like us. Several of them came over and asked what I was doing when I boarded up the front windows. Through the glass I shouted that it was on the news that we should all make our houses as safe as we can in the case of lawlessness. It seemed liked the right answer. “Where’s Mom? I’m getting hungry, Lou.” Joey rubs her little belly. I glance at the window that’s boarded up and sigh.
