Our hideaway shakes with another explosion. I cover her face, protect it from chunks of falling plaster and brick. A waving hand does nothing to clear the stifling air; the dust is everywhere, choking us all, slowly killing us.

‘Quiet now.’

I rock her side to side, whispering into her ear. Usually it soothes her, but she can feel my fear. She knows something’s not right.

Footsteps above, heavy over rubble, fragments scattering across the ground, bouncing on our sheet metal shelter.

‘Quiet. Please stay quiet.’ I wrap her tighter in my arms, in the blanket that smells of her father. Where is he?

She settles. For now.

‘We need to move,’ says a bearded man, coughing, face pasted with soot and sweat. ‘We can’t stay here. They...

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