The black man with the big nose had admired the elegance of the Aleppo Palace Hotel from the outside all his life. As a child, he used to imagine its rooms when it passed in front of him.
On this magnificent March morning of a year full of freedom, there was a real task that needed to be completed at the end. He held the white box, which had been cleaned in the time he had produced, and was used with cotton thread, in both hands, while his stomach was queasy with excitement.
But the high vaulted ceilings and the elegant furniture in the entrance hall frightened him so much that he continued to work more courageously. His knees, but he had decided to earn money to make his list, which he followed on a carpet of such enormous dimensions that he doubted he would ever reach the marble reception desk to deliver his precious package. When he finally reached his destination, his courage gave out under the piercing gaze of the imposing receptionist.
Please sir, he said, this is for Miss Ayşe.
After leaving the box on the counter, he turned around before the guest officer could scold him for spoiling such an exclusive environment with his unkempt presence.
The big-nosed man, who is eager to succeed in the crowds, who is leaving the sidewalks to filth and garbage, cannot notice the man in the checkered hat, who is standing in the magnificent glass-roofed courtyard, watching him, as he speeds past the hotel. Nor can he notice the sign of the man's message or the horse-drawn carriage coming up from behind as he steps down the sidewalk. They collided at full speed. The man in the hat quickly disappeared into the formation. Witnesses told the driver, who was clearly agitated, that it was an accident. It was an accident.(?)
"Another one of the careless street thugs, but a little cleaner than most," said the new regime's hoop-bearded policeman.
High above the chaos, the Sun poured its rays into the living room of Mrs. Ayşe's team, and as she poured herself a second cup of tea, it glinted on her silver teapot, which had not been working during her first cup, next to the flower vase on the linen-covered tea table.
It will prevent you from being frightened suddenly, Mrs. Malafişi, said A., casting a surprised look at the woman who had turned her back to her.
M. stood at one of the ostentatiously covered windows, examining her polished nails. She wore only a sweeping black dress with a brooch embossed around her neck, and the yellow fabrics were gathered into an old-fashioned tight bun. Although Aisha wished with all her heart to bring her beloved sister's murderer to justice, there were some immediate details that she was reluctant to partake in.
She had tried to appreciate Aisha's inner appearance and the resolution of its consequences, its form, and was not afraid to be found wanting in what she did not now need to know to solve the crime. A., who was sincere by nature, had dreaded this inevitable conversation and postponed it as long as possible.
A. stirred a spoonful of sugar into the tea.
A. continued to stir her tea, talking about the man who had been glaring at her with a disapproving face throughout her travels south. Hardly a day passed without her complaining about how long it had taken us to get here. She emptied herself at her feet and placed her cup on the carved rosewood next to the thickly padded armchair. Her skin was fair and flawless, and except for the delicate, flat burn that steadfastly refused to look down, she could have posed for a vogue photograph.
In the privacy of her private room, she wore neither hat nor gloves, and her hair was curled like a French bouffant. Moonstone earrings dangled from her ears.
A parting gown in various shades of blue accentuated her hourglass figure and accentuated her slender waist. The rustle of her skirts broke the silence as she approached M., and in short, she said:
Now I have asked only a few necessary questions to get angry.
``She reached out and touched M.'s shoulder, and continued:
"How am I going to find the murderer of my lover..."
said Malafisi, turning back and looking at Aisha, her eyes shining with the slightest passion.
I never knew you were so suspicious! she shouted.
They brought her arms back and glared at Aisha.
Some things are better left as they are!
With her mouth tightly clamped shut to prevent an angry attack from escaping, her skirts rustling, A. turned back angrily.