A story from salon. That i wish to share with you .

My husband and I had just finished eating breakfast, and our 18-month-old daughter Anna was quietly playing with Lego bricks on our living room floor. My phone buzzes first. The ringtone is set on silent, but the long, violent buzzing is familiar: an emergency alert. A couple seconds later, my husband’s does the same.

"BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."

Not what I expected to read at 8:07 a.m. on a Saturday.

"Babe . . .? This is a test, right?"

He grabs his phone and silently reads the same alert. I watch his face change. "I don’t think so."

We look at each other, just for a second, and I laugh, a nervous reaction. "No way."

There are no sirens, no fire alarms in our building. I scroll through my Google search. My husband does the same. There’s nothing online, nothing on the local news and nothing (yet) on Facebook. We turn the TV on. Nothing.

My best friend, who lives in the same condo, calls me and her voice, tight with emotion, finally gets through: "GET OUT NOW!"