The next morning, the blue silk scarf I had bought from the old woman became my lucky charm. I tied it around my neck before leaving, feeling that this small garment was like a shield against the cold and against the memories the woman in the fur coat had stirred within me.
When I arrived at the bookstore, the atmosphere was unusually lively. Kerem wasn't arranging books, but rather meticulously cleaning the café's wooden tables, and Mr. Malik was wearing an ironed shirt, something very unusual for him.
"Gia, hoş geldin" (Gia, welcome), Kerem said, raising his hand in greeting. "It's good that you're early. Mr. Aslan is coming in today."
"Mr. Aslan?" I asked, placing my bag behind the counter.
"Evet (Yes). He’s a very important collector in the city,” Kerem explained quietly, making su
