Kamal took the first step towards the stairs. Mehmet was a step behind. He looked up to the stairs of third and fourth floor. They were standing just in the middle point of a total of 80 steps, having turns after every ten steps.
At the same time, just two floors above them, on the fourth floor of the same building, Feriha was busy in pressing her fingers alternately by each hand. She had just returned from the hospital after staying there for a couple of days, where the doctors had carried out advanced tests of her nervous system. Over years she had developed a problem with her nerves. At times she had been feeling her fingers as senseless. Doctors had told her that the operation of a part of her nerves was necessary. But she never agreed to that.
A couple of days back it had struck again. All of a sudden her fingers had stopped working. She could not hold anything in her hands. She could not wash her face. She could not do anything. She had started feeling as if her fingers were not there. But what had made her panicked was that she could not even use her laptop.
“He must be waiting for me,” she did have said to herself so many times. But how could she inform him of her condition. She could not ask anybody else to convey her message to him. She never wanted to leak out this secret of hers. So she wanted to let him wait for her reply till she regained her fingers back. She continued concentrating on physiotherapy of her fingers. Doctors had told her that physiotherapy would not bring her permanent relief, but she did not want to have an operation.
Feriha was too happy. Her sudden illness had frightened her. She had realized that she was in love with Kamal. The unexplainable feeling that she had been experiencing