The moments after the siren stops are the worst
So the sirens went off again about 15 minutes ago. They wail to let you know to take cover and you hear the flurry of activity of doors opening and neighbours rushing down the stairs, people on the street running to get out of the open, cars stopping and people getting out to crouch down by the wheels (and why do people do that? I mean, if being in the car is dangerous, isn’t it just as dangerous to crouch against the car?)
Then the wail of the siren stops and there is just an unreal quiet like the world has just gone on pause, like everyone is just collectively holding their breath. I find myself suddenly taking a deep breath and realize that I was, in fact, holding my breath, listening, listening. What you are waiting for is will you hear a boom at any moment. And if you do, will it be a boom because the Iron Dome did her golden work of taking out the incoming threat or will it be the boom of the rocket smashing down death and destruction somewhere nearby. And then, of course, the biggest question on your mind is will you not hear a boom because the rocket smashed down on you. Those minutes right after the sirens go silent are definitely the worst.