Kat’s parents were asleep, and the nineteen-year-old was just about to slip out the door to their apartment when she heard a man clear his throat. She turned and saw her Uncle Grigoriy sitting in the living-room easy chair, with a book in his hand and a cup of tea steaming on the side table next to him. The man had only moved in with them a week ago, and Kat had forgotten to take him into account when she made her plan to sneak out.

“You should not go out this late, Kateryna,” the man said quietly. “There is a curfew. And there are soldiers on the streets.”