He probably could not sleep at all last night. Nor could he sleep the night before. It was impossible to sleep because of the noise and because of the explosions and because of the missiles and because of the Fighter Jets and because of the smoke and because of the fire and because of the sirens and because of the fear. Because of the fear and the terror that paralyzes the body and dries the throat, and explodes your heart every time there is another explosion. Whenever there is another fall. The fear left him helpless, because he did not know where it would come from and who it would strike each time the sky were painted red and yellow and black. The fear and horror pushed him to look for cover. For a place to hide so they would not see him.  If they can’t see him then they can’t to hurt him. That’s what he must have thought. Where He hid I do not know. Because they have no protected areas, nor shelters either. So maybe he was hiding under the bed. Or at the toilet. Or maybe behind the thick wall on the deck. Or maybe in the shed in the backyard. And maybe he was running from one room to another. And maybe he just stood in the middle of the house and cried and cried and cried. Until he ran out of tears and until he ran out of night and until morning came and with it came the bomb. And with the bomb it was all over. His name was Abdallah Abu Ghazal, from Gaza, and he was five years old.