I live only two U-Bahn stops away from Schwedenplatz, the main site of the attack. From my bedroom window, I watched a gray military van circle my street multiple times, up and down the same road. I saw people from the adjacent apartment building stare too at the van from their windows. We looked at each other and looked away. Most strikingly, the loud blue, white, and red colors from the ORF news channel from my neighbor’s television reflected into my room. We were a city on edge. 

A week later, I feel almost normal. The trams roll by on my street again; many pedestrians walk the streets, unaware of potential danger, their heads in their phones. It was as if for two days we slept and only had bad dreams. But it wasn’t a dream: one friend was stuck at a restaurant; a few others left at another’s apartment building, forced to make Monday evening into a slumber party without the childlike connotations of that usually pleasurable event. My students, some 15–16 years old, underwent trauma; they knew one of the casualties from that night and discussed their thoughts in a virtual class a few days later.

This year has brought much pain to many. But we will continue to prevail.