THE RED OF LATE SUNRISE – Story

Translation: Enes Talha Coşgun She was afraid of falling off the balcony. This feeling entered into her suddenly, as instantaneous as the vane touches twelve, as definite as the day progress of the calendar, and as irreversible as the arrow of time. She feared that lies would be told on her behalf; she was afraid that her death would be decorated with a seven-letter word with a lot of “i” and a romantic sound: “Suicide”, Such a gentle word! Like “anticipation” or “pride”. But was the word “murder” look alike like those words? It was a vulgar, blood-smelling word, even …

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