"I need to get back to the main road!" Selim shouted. "I'm losing time!"
Yanyol led Selim to a small, hidden tea house tucked behind a row of billboard signs. For the first time in twenty years, Selim sat still. He listened to the rain on the tin roof instead of the roar of engines. He talked to Yanyol about his childhood, about the garden he used to tend, and about the quiet dreams he had traded for a seat in the fast lane. yanyol
Out of the mist stepped Yanyol. He didn't wear a suit or carry a briefcase; he wore a faded denim jacket and carried a small, glowing lantern. "I need to get back to the main road