He reached into his pocket, pulled out his factory ID, and slammed it onto the desk.
"Keep the chair," Demir said, his breath coming in sharp, clean bursts. "I’m going to go watch my daughter dance." Yeter Lan Yeter
Demir felt a heat rising from his chest, a slow-burn fire he had kept dampened for years to keep his daughter in school and his mother in medicine. He thought of his worn-out boots, the holes in his floorboards, and the way Selim’s new car gleamed in the parking lot. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his
Suddenly, Demir stood up so fast his chair clattered to the floor. The sound cracked like a gunshot. Demir roared. He reached into his pocket