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Some came to get Wi-Fi, some to hang out, one woman for “me time,” just her and a good book. Al-Baqa Cafe sat facing the beach and the waves, away from the wreckage of Gaza City. There, it seemed almost possible to relax, to forget — if only for the space of a few cups of coffee.
“Everything about the place brought back memories, of safety, of life before,” said Mohammed Abu Shamala, 25, an aid worker who grabbed a table there last month with two friends.
He had just started chatting with another friend when the place exploded. Chairs barreled through the air, he said. Dust blocked the sea from sight. Mr. Abu Shamala and his friend were slammed to the concrete floor, where blood was pooling.
“It felt like the world was pushing down on me from every direction,” he said later. “I screamed, not because of the pain, but just to hear my own voice, to make sure I was still alive.”
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An Israeli warplane had bombed the cafe. The strike, on June 30, killed 32 people, Gaza’s health ministry said.
