“When will it be shown?” the guy with the flag asked piercingly.
“On the evening news.”
“You’re lying!” The loud woman said furiously and went to the microphone. “Let me say something. Everyone will be killed soon. Shot in the head. At night three women were shot at the bus station. Night will come, it will be cold at night, bullets will fly…”
A revolutionary weather forecast.
“Yok,” Ayana shook her head in denial, like a grownup child who no longer believed in witches.
“Yok,” means “No” in Kyrgyz.
There was a shot. Then another. Over our heads. The crowd got anxious, frantic, and people started running away. The last thing that I saw was the TV guy with a pink tie falling down. He clutched his head and fell on his side. Out of fear? Or had he been hit by a bullet? I ran too, caught
