"7 p.m. in Kyiv." A story by Undergraduate Honors Student Misha Tentser

It’s Saturday morning. My Russian mother and I sit on a bench at St. Philip’s Plaza and sip our coffees. Cyclists walk their carbon fiber bicycles. Foothills matriarchs walk their freshly manicured dogs. It’s been five days since my Ukrainian grandmother, my father’s mother, told me over the phone that Russia has invaded Ukraine. Though my grandmother fled to Israel 20 years ago, my great uncle, her brother, stayed behind. From her I learn that my great uncle has been trapped in Kyiv without cell or internet service since Tuesday. He and I usually speak on the phone once a month. Yesterday and today, I have dialed his number a total of 17 times. Every time I dial, I get an automated error message followed by the hiss of static. Sometimes, I swear I can hear the warmth of his voice within the static, so I stay on the line for a few minutes listening, wondering if he’s trying to send me a secret message. Read Full Story Here.