I found a short story I wrote about eight years ago on my computer:
“Why did he invite me to a meeting in such a strange place?” the young woman complained.
Olgunlar Street was packed. University students, high school students and parents were going from one bookstore to another, to get all their needs in the first week of school.
“Where will I find you now?” she said in a voice that only she could hear.
Walking through the street lively and chirping like a child, she inhaled the sad smell of Ankara. She looked at the sky, the city winked.
“Who are you looking for, madam?” a salesman asked.
“Do you know where Imkan Bookstore is?” she replied.
“Go straight, the store is on the right.”
While proceeding under the guidance of these words, the woman saw impatient teenagers, excited children and anxious adults. People were surrounded by the rush of the dream called life. The street was alive, trembling beneath her feet. She remembered her father dead, thus she felt alone and defenceless in the crowd.
She startled by a sudden voice. “Come, doctor!” Welcome!” This was Sinan. Together they attended elementary school. They were close friends, childhood friends. They asked how they were doing. “What have you been up to since we last met, Ayti?” Sinan always called Aylin as this.
“I lost my father. It can’t be said that I had a very pleasant high school life. There is no mother, so I killed my years in dormitories.” A cloud formed in her eyes.
“I heard you won medical school, congratulations,” said Sinan, smiling sincerely.
“Thank you,” Aylin said, trying to smile but couldn’t. Her expenses were doubling her scholarship, so she had financial difficulties. She wanted to change the subject: “Which university do you study at?”
“As you know, my dream was tourism management,” Sinan said, pointing to Antalya painting hanging over his seat. “We couldn’t get along with my father, he didn’t want me to go to university. He will hand over the bookstore to me.”
The smile on Sinan’s face faded.
“But…” Aylin said in surprise, “Tourism has been your dream for years since we first met!”
“My dreams are hanged,” said Sinan, looking at the painting above.
Aylin felt sorry for him. One who dreams of the sea and beaches was going to spend his youth in a tiny closed shop.
“Happiness is giving, not receiving,” Sinan said. “Just because my dream hangs on the wall, I can’t let my dear friend’s dreams hang.”
He began to unload something from the shelf above. Meanwhile, the woman was trying to figure out what was going on. Finally Sinan went to the safe, made a bow with a colorful ribbon and gave the books to Aylin: “Happy birthday!”
The young woman screamed. The books Sinan gave were nothing but medical books that Aylin could not buy due to financial difficulties and had to be brought to class tomorrow.