The irony wasn’t lost on them. The song was a plea wrapped in a dance, a heartbreak you could move your hips to. It was exactly how Selim felt: a tragic mess disguised as a functioning human being.
"Selim, we talked about this," she said, her voice trembling. "The sadness here... it’s swallowing you. I can’t stay underwater just to hold your hand." Gitme Burdan | Mabel Matiz Antidepresan
"I'm not," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm just asking for a little more time before the lights go out." The irony wasn’t lost on them
She stood up. The chair scraped against the wood like a sob. She didn't look back as she pushed through the heavy door. "Selim, we talked about this," she said, her voice trembling
Across from him sat Leyla. She was adjusting her scarf, her eyes already halfway out the door, looking toward a life in a city where the sun actually shone. She was leaving for London in three hours.
Selim stayed. He listened to the song end and the next one begin. He took the blister pack out, looked at the small white tablet, and then put it back in his pocket. For the first time in months, he didn't want the numbness. He wanted to feel the hole she left behind, because at least that hole was real.
In his pocket, the foil of a half-empty blister pack crinkled. Antidepresan. He hadn’t taken one today. He wanted to feel the sharp edges of the goodbye, even if it cut.