The Bakery

"wake up."

he heard the soft whisper of wind in his ear. The morning yelps of roosters rose from the rooftops in the street. sun was rising with all its glory as if nothing was wrong. as if everything about yesterday had been nothing but a realistic nightmare. zia opened his eyes stretching a little.

"I'm 13 years old, today."

he got up from his bed which was merely a brick and a road. it was just another day. zia could not waste a moment. he pushed back the brick and cracked his neck. he washed his face and feet at the mosque nearby.Then, he headed to his workplace. the bakery.

he ran as fast as the wind and smelled the aroma of morning dew through his nose. flowers. they smelled like jasmine. it was known all around Quettaw that in fact the scent of jasmine was the sign of arrival of spring. a new year. A start of all the seasons.

Zia reached the bakery by 6 AM. By the bakery, he saw his pompous boss standing and watering the flower pots which had sprouted with flower buds. feliz - he used to call them. the turkish word for them.

Rehman , zia's employer, comes to be a man of definite values. he never misses his prayers. never takes sudden holidays. never breaks the rules. but yet, his eyes shine with gratitude, honor and truthfulness. To Zia, they feel amiable.

"good morning! Zia my son."

"morning,Rehman agha."

they shake hands. then, go to their own routines. Conventionally, Rehman would knead the dough for the bakery while Zia would clean the floor and the deep hole in the floor in which they cooked the bread. Rehman agha said it was "tandoor". then he would help Rehman agha make portions of the dough. the portions would be definite just the way Rehman agha likes them. Zia was still perfecting his portions and their definition. In between, Rehman agha would tell Zia about the places he visited.

" I went to turkey for studying. What should I say to you zia? the turkish people are very generous . their meals are simple yet delicious. they love sweets. Travelers love their dishes. the culture they have preserved is unique and rich. they have majestic mosques and historical buildings. They have a history but I never bothered to study it. "

Here, Rehman agha would chuckle. After finishing making portions, Zia stood up. Rehman agha looked up at him,

" What happened to your clothes zia? let me get you changed ."

he went to his bag at the corner of the bakery and pulled out a white shirt.

"wear this."

Zia almost teared up. He had been working for Rehman agha for two months since his mother passed away but every time that he pulled out a clean shirt for him he remembered his mom.

Zia changed into his new clothes and said thanks to Rehman agha. Rehman agha paid him for the work and gave him a loaf of bread.

Zia accepted them and ran like the wind through the streets.

on the way to his favourite place.