As I stepped onto the sidewalk and the door shut behind me, the siren went off. I had just finished the first of two Britot scheduled in Jerusalem and was headed for the next one. The door, which had closed behind me, uncharacteristically, was magnetically sealed – I wouldn’t be able to go back to the apartment and had, say, 60 seconds to find shelter. I sprinted into the apartment parking lot under the building. I went as low and as deep as I could and sat down by myself. All I could hear was my breathing.
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