Selim stopped tapping. He leaned forward, his smile thin and cold. "Promises don’t pay the bills, Demir. If you aren't here Sunday, don’t bother coming Monday. There are a hundred men outside that gate who would beg for your chair."
He walked out of the office, through the lint-filled air of the factory floor. His coworkers watched him, their eyes wide. Demir didn't look back. For the first time in years, the air outside the factory gates didn't smell like chemicals—it just smelled like the wind. 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. Selim stopped tapping