The missile left a nearby computer and teacup shrouded with dust, instant artifacts of Europeâs latest crisis.
At dawn on Thursday, Ukrainiansâ uneasy efforts at normality were shattered. Smoke rose from cities, even well away from the countryâs disputed eastern border.
âToday I had the worst sunrise in my life,â said another Kharkiv resident, who gave her name only as Sasha. She rushed to her balcony and realized the sounds that had woken her werenât fireworks.
Farther from the border, a morning commute transformed into chaos, with lines of cars waiting at fuel stations or fleeing from the gray and drizzly capital, Kyiv. People carrying luggage took shelter in the subway, unsure of where to go.
Some panicked. Others clung to routine, with irritation.
âIâm not afraid. Iâm going to work. The only unusual thing is that you canât find a taxi in Kyiv,â one resident complained, as air raid sirens wailed.
Many seemed unsure how to react. Kyivâs main street, Khreshchatyk, rippled with anxiety as people checked their phones. Some walked their dogs or waved at friends.
âIâm not scared at the moment. Maybe Iâll be scared later,â resident Maxim Prudskoi said.
But elsewhere in the capital, Anna Dovnya watched soldiers and police remove shrapnel from an exploded shell and was terrified. âWe have lost all faith,â she said. âUntil the very last moment, I didnât believe it would happen. I just pushed away these thoughts.â
In Mariupol, the Azov Sea port city that many feared would be the first major target because of its strategic importance, AP journalists saw similar scenes of mixed routine and fear.
Some residents waited at bus stops, seemingly on their way to work, while others rushed to leave the city that is only about 15 kilometers (less than 10 miles) from the front line with the Donetsk Peopleâs Republic, one of two separatist-held areas recognized by Russian President Vladimir Putin as independent this week in a prelude to the attack.
âI canât do anything. Iâm just stuck standing here,â said one Mariupol resident who gave only his first name, Maxim, after running around the city since sunrise in search of cash or a full tank of gas, in vain.
At a supermarket, retiree Anna Efimova worried about her mother, who she said was busy stocking her basement with supplies. âThereâs nowhere to run, where can we run?â she said.
As the day progressed, alarm rose across Ukraine. People crowded grocery stores. In Kharkiv, worried residents inspected fragments of military hardware strewn across a childrenâs playground.
Kyiv Mayor Vitaly Klitschko called on the cityâs 3 million people to stay indoors unless they worked in critical sectors and said everyone should prepare go-bags with necessities such as medicine and documents.
For weeks, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy had tried to moderate expectations of aggression by Russia, even as warnings by the United States became more urgent. Zelenskyy argued that panic would lead to societal destabilization that could be as much of a tactical advantage for Russia as the estimated 150,000 troops that had massed on Ukraineâs borders.
On Thursday, as the president imposed martial law, Ukrainians realized with a jolt that everything was changing.
âI feel panic, scared and excited. I donât know who I should ask for help,â said Kyiv resident Elizaveta Melnik.â We didnât believe this situation would come.â
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Francesca Ebel in Kyiv contributed to this story.
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Follow APâs coverage of the Ukraine crisis at https://apnews.com/hub/russia-ukraine
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