First, the power went out in the bar. A few minutes later came the familiar low, concussive thud of an explosion nearby, the kind that makes the walls tremble and the glasses rattle on the shelves. Somewhere close, a few streets perhaps, a Russian drone had found its mark. Almost as quick as it came, the sound dissipates, leaving an ambivalent quietness in its wake. Inside, the waitress lights candles, which flicker as if battling to keep darkness at bay. From a phone sitting on the bar, she plays music, the sound, tinny and weak, fighting to drown out the silence. Outside, buses speed along the street, clamorous beacons of light patrolling in the gloom. Only a moment later, it’s as though the explosion had not happened.

Elsewhere in the city, life continues in spite of the dark and the d

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