Noontime in Yenisehir

by Sevgi Soysal

  The firemen blew on their whistles. One brave firefighter ran towards Mevlût, waving his hands and arms in the air. But time was so short. The poplar’s day had come. The warning came too late. The poplar, unable to stand on its rotten roots any longer, swayed once to the right, and once to the left, made a loud cracking sound, and then, with the swiftness of the final, decisive moment, when it is too late for anyone to change anything, fell on Mevlût.