Nazım

Kerim ve Ayla// story of us [part 2]

This note is pointless!

Enjoy in sha Allah!

!

Just kidding =D
But I want your honest opinion! What would you all think about a sequel to Nazım?

K E R İ M

{story of us}

bölüm 2

"Anne I'll get it."

Kerim took the empty crate and tossed it into the back room. He and his mother were both working again at the farmer's market alongside dozens of other merchants and stores which crowded up the place, along with the crowds of people coming in and out. It was a cacophony of prices being shouted out, customers making their selections and people casually conversing. Whether it was a merchant to a customer or between merchants or between customers, almost everyone was talking. Even Kerim, who was usually on mute.

"Kerim, we need more wheat," his mother said as she handed a basket of rolls to another customer. She received money which she stored in the register behind a giant sack of flour. Something else to add to the money she earned from working part time at a hospital. "I think Birant can help us, can you go?"

His mother was an inspiration for him. It was around five years ago his brother died, and he still felt the recoil from Ali's death. Naturally as his mother, she would have been in mourning for a while, but even a week after Ali died she was still headstrong in keeping the family business going. It was practically their only source of income. Even with the hospital work, so there wasn't much of a chance of giving up any time soon.

She was definitely handling the loss of Ali better than Kerim had.

"Sure," he said.

"Give this money to him," she said, and quickly slapped some bills into his hand.

Kerim left the market, which was really just an oversized tent in a vacant lot in the district, and was on his way to Birant's bakery. This was a small section in the district where foods and goods were sold along with where some of the houses were. It was rare to see many cars here since everything was so close to each other.

The bakery of Birant was not far from the market, and so Kerim made it there in about fifteen minutes, give or take a few.

He stepped in through the door and stopped right in the frame to see a group of men in prostration towards Mecca. The entire shop was silent.

Oh yeah, Kerim then remembered.

It was the time for Asr, the afternoon prayer. He remembered the call to prayer resonating throughout the streets. During the twenty minutes after the call went off, the streets declined dramatically in activity as people went to go pray. But the call to prayer was about an hour ago, so they must have been late.

"Allahu Akbar." The man in front of all of them sat up, and the rest followed suit.

They'd all finished after the last, "selam aleyküm." A turn of their head to the right, and then the left. The men were on their way out and Kerim stepped over for them to pass. Birant, however, went to the front of the counter and made a gesture for Kerim to come closer, and he complied.

"Selam aleyküm!" Birant greeted.

"Hi," Kerim muttered.

"Hi?" Birant looked taken aback. "What is wrong with me that I cannot have the proper response back?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. That greeting's just for when you're greeting another Muslim, and I just want to be fair."

"What are you then?" Birant asked. "If you don't mind my wondering."