It was a rainy afternoon.Not the kind that makes you stay in—but the kind that leads you to places you haven't visited in too long.
Emir stepped into the public library near the eastern train line.No one noticed him.The lights hummed.The warmth smelled like wet jackets and cardboard spines.
He wandered.Not looking for anything.
Until a spine caught his eye.
"Collected Notes: Volume 1" — E. Kara (Unofficial Edition)
It was a cheap reprint.Probably unauthorized.Pages thin.Binding cracked.
But inside…
Someone had written in the margins.
Not just quotes.Not admiration.
Conversation.
—
On page 4:
"Remembering is not about keeping."— ["Then why do I feel heavier the more I do it?"]
On page 11:
"Truth is shaped by where you stand."— ["And what if I never learned to stand?"]
On page 18:
"Don't wait for permission."— ["I'm not. I'm waiting for safety."]
Emir paused.
This wasn't annotation.
It was a dialogue.
One he hadn't expected.One he maybe… needed.
—
"They've stopped quoting you," Atatürk said softly."Now they're correcting you.Which means they finally believe you're real."
— "I don't mind being wrong," Emir murmured.
"You will.The first time they surpass you."
Emir closed the book gently.
But not before finding the final page.Blank, except for one last line written by the unknown reader:
"If you ever read this:I'm not waiting for you to answer.I just needed to know you could be questioned."
He smiled.
For the first time that week, he smiled with relief.
—
That night, he didn't write a response.He copied the marginal notes into his own notebook.
Then wrote:
"The moment you stop teaching…is the moment your students start building."
"And the best thing I've ever madeis someone who doesn't need me anymore."