SİLENT SNOWMEN (English Edition)

Sia -snowmen.

One day,

somewhere,

with someone.

She was taking steps, forcing the fabric of the black suit she wore.

The guard, waiting for the exact moment her step touched the ground, held his breath and waited patiently. His breath escaped every time her foot met the ground, the sound of it blending with her steps.

As she walked, the woman, who had now begun to keep a steady rhythm, never strayed from her path.

When the first drop of the seasonal shift fell to the ground, it struck the place it would settle with force. The mud that splashed from where the drop hit spread outward in a circle, not straying far from the drop that had caused it. As the city began to reveal its hidden and magical signs, it left everyone unaware of it.

“There was once a princess. On the day she received her title, as crystalline snowflakes fell, she spun around and looked up at the sky. The first snowflakes would always touch her hair first,” she whispered.

“According to a Yakut legend, the world was once very cold,” said the guard in a whisper. His eyes were on the red-eyed woman. The breeze entering the café brushed past her first.

“Ülker, according to Yakut Turkic belief, opened a hole in the sky through which cold winds entered and froze everything on earth.”

He paused for a moment. His lips, moving faster as if in prayer, swallowed his whisper.

“One day, a great warrior emerged. To keep his hands from freezing, he made thirty pairs of gloves from wolf fur, ascended to the sky, and closed the hole of the Ülker star…”

He was watching her.

He was always watching her.

The woman whose back he followed slipped her hand into her pocket and, as she noticed the rose, the doors opened completely.

A red and white rose. Rosa Osiria.

Above the head of the man who was trying with all his strength to separate the intertwined universes, an infinity sign formed of shards of ice appeared—and cracked.

When the man heard the sound, he suddenly stopped. The cloud of breath that escaped his mouth drifted and traced itself onto the universe he was trying to separate. While still conscious, he heard the voice of a woman whose face he could not see. Her universe merged with his. As all the strength drained from his body, he cursed.

The woman, with her brows furrowed, stopped and looked at the rose that had come out of her pocket in confusion.

“How?” she whispered.

She kept turning the rose quickly between her delicate, slender fingers, examining it. Her eyes were narrowed, her face tense. Her shoulder-length light brown hair moved with the slight breeze, falling across her eyes. The tip of her upturned, triangular nose rose in a perfect curve to its sharpest point—the sharpest point of her face. The tip and nostrils of her nose, where her anger could easily be read, formed a triangle when viewed from the front. She pressed her full, short lips together.

The rose, with its thorns untrimmed, was quite heavy. There were so many of them, and they were so large… was this the rose with the biggest thorns?

The pointed, open-toe heels with thin ankle straps that completed her black jacket and fabric trousers now struck the ground firmly.

Anger was right here. It was coursing rapidly through her entire body.

Those who had been turning toward the sound of her heels since earlier now looked her up and down and continued on their way.

And time…

began to flow just like this, within its own time.

As she spoke, it felt like moments like these were multiplying.

“I can smell your feelings,” she said, looking from one of my eyes to the other. As she said this, her eyes seemed to be searching for something hidden inside me. Or no… it felt as if she wanted to place something inside me herself. Her gaze kept shifting from one eye to the other. She was perfectly applying the first rule of effective communication.

When someone entered through the door near my table, a slight breeze slipped inside and brushed against my skin. At the same moment, I shivered. I pulled my shoulders in and adjusted myself.

The right moment, the right person, the right place… it was a touch too sudden and sharp to allow me to give a real reaction.

For a brief moment, I watched my hair sway. It was as if the fortune teller had made an agreement with the universe and translated the wind entering through the door into her own language.

I responded to my own thought with a faint smile. I blinked as well.

Alright.

“A love that has had nowhere to go for a long time…” Her voice slowed first, then a slight pause settled between her words.

“At every moment you think you have lived through and finished something, you continue to live it.”

“You will continue to.” Another pause. “As long as infinity… and beyond.”

I don’t know… were these things the mind could comprehend?

Some beginnings should have been simple.

In this country, whenever we say “let’s have a Turkish coffee,” it always ends up here. I smiled faintly. I found myself experiencing this moment alone—one that a few people could witness, form an opinion about, and pass on to others from their own perspective.

Wasn’t this something everyone would feel one day, somewhere?

“I can see the mystery in your coffee grounds. You… were born on a day that does not exist in this world.”

The fortune teller, speaking louder than before—than her usual tone—interrupted my thoughts. The woman sitting next to me spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully.

Nazlı had called her to our table about ten minutes ago.

I rolled my eyes and touched my neck with my fingers, then held it. I glanced around the place from over my left shoulder. My intention was to hide my feelings from both women sitting beside me.

I had no part of me that would believe in this nonsense. Nor any part that would want to.

It was August; the heat was more than it should have been. I was sweating, feeling suffocated, and also exposed to a situation I did not want at all. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

I hated the heat.

For a moment, my eyes searched for the air conditioner in the café. Where was it? Was it even working? And that breeze from earlier?

For the past few minutes, I had been breathing deeply. My chest truly felt like it didn’t want to fit inside my body.

My perception was so sensitive at that moment… With one hand, I touched the fabric of the clothes that were suffocating me, feeling every centimeter where it touched my skin. The more I thought about it, the more I seemed to sweat.

Under the table, I shook my crossed legs impatiently, using all my body language to make the woman stop talking and leave as soon as possible. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling two or three times more disturbed than usual by things that normally bothered me. The woman held the cup in her hand, looking into it without even turning it once, and spoke in meaningless sentences.

“There is a piano here… missing a few keys,” she said, lowering her voice.

A piano?

Of course.

Now I was watching her face with curiosity. How many more empty sentences would she form?

She had beautiful skin, a confident and stylish expression. Suddenly, she caught me watching her. Our eyes met quickly.

I couldn’t call her an ordinary fortune teller.

She was elegant in every sense. Quite elegant. Words, ornate and perfectly fitting, formed in my mind that I couldn’t deny…

The thin sleeves of the tight blouse she wore had caused a slight redness on her skin. Her black, high-waisted, loose jeans that did not leave her waist exposed were from a well-known brand. When one corner of her lips lifted, unfamiliar feelings awakened inside me.

Feelings I couldn’t name. The kind of feelings everyone experiences differently—the ones we cannot name or define.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I had been caught. I swallowed and slowly licked my lips. I simply waited for what would come next.

This heat… this woman… this situation… was going to drive me mad.

I was a winter person. It felt as if the heat was killing only my soul.

My cousin, who always called me a “winter woman,” was watching the fortune teller carefully and curiously, ignoring me. When the first snow fell, I would sit in it for hours, describing those moments as the only times I could still breathe.

Sometimes, I believed that the only thing that could truly touch me was the cold, and I never shared this thought or feeling with anyone. I missed the unknown aspects of winter, and with the strange feelings it gave me, I felt very, very well.

Now, I wanted to run away and hide in the cold.

The woman was looking straight into my eyes, never breaking her focus.

“Your heart is cold,” she said to me.

With that short sentence that came out of her mouth, my heart gave a real reaction.

The only organ of mine that was listening to her was my heart.

How?

Her address was only to it. That lonely feeling sleeping inside me stirred as if it were waking up. If I were to describe it properly, I could say it stretched and tensed.

“Yes,” said my cousin next to me, “it’s frozen.”

Despite those feelings, I stubbornly shrugged.

This was how I was saying, I don’t care.

As our elders say: “Don’t believe in fortune-telling, but don’t stay without it either.” At that moment, the part of my heart that wanted to believe—and managed to—waved at these foolish thoughts of mine.

The woman was still looking at me, not staying silent, stubbornly continuing her words. She was looking directly into my eyes, not breaking her focus for even a moment.

Or maybe she wasn’t doing it specifically for me—maybe she treated everyone like this, doing her job this way.

I was looking at her for a long time. I wasn’t stepping back either.

The fortune teller?

“Hah…” I let out a sound unintentionally. I was talking to myself in my head, not even caring about my surroundings. I never believed in fortune-telling.

I watched her, narrowing my eyes.

I was observing. And it seemed as if she had read the expression on my face with her piercing gaze and was acting accordingly.

This time, without even looking at the coffee cup, she spoke while examining my face.

“Your heart is cold,” she said.

My heart, the addressee of her words, stirred slightly again. A part of me that had been asleep inside me had now awakened. For now, these were the only words I could use to describe this feeling.

“For now.”

“Cold?” said my cousin beside me.

“Yes. Frozen… it has swallowed the ice.”

I didn’t pay attention to her. My eyes briefly touched Nazlı, then quickly returned to their former focus—the woman. Was she reading me, or was she just making things up? Ridiculous.

Everyone—every one of us—is cold.

Who could warm this cold? It certainly wasn’t this world. Could these frozen hearts even function? Could they beat?

Was she saying this to every customer?

Was it a metaphor? Or not?

It wasn’t.

I raised and lowered my shoulders.

While continuing to look into my eyes, as if she had heard my inner voice, she slightly lifted the left corner of her lips again. I shifted uncomfortably. I swallowed.

The energy left behind by her words and her eyes continued to circulate inside me as unease.

What was happening?

As the fortune teller’s lips, emphasized by her dark red lipstick, parted again, I was still watching her. Strangely, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Damn it!

But as seconds passed, the strangeness of her gaze… and the attention she directed at me… began to frighten me.

I wanted to look away… but I couldn’t.

And her attention… it was different. And it carried me beyond discomfort to another level. I couldn’t even name that feeling. Did anyone know what that level was? I was sure more than one person had felt it.

Why had she suddenly appeared in front of me?

Her manner, her attitude… everything about her was strange.

Her green eyes were vivid. Her short, blunt-cut hair was thick and shiny. Her snow-white skin was almost unreal.

My mind was already full of unknowns, strange thoughts, and feelings. Now I was thinking those strange things again… and on top of that, experiencing and feeling them.

Just like the numbness felt in winter—except for the beautiful side of feeling it.

“The music playing is incomplete, but it will not remain that way.”

I blinked. “Incomplete?” I murmured, frowning.

Alright. I took a deep breath. I would let her speak and finish this day.

“Your missing piece will begin to play.”

She leaned slightly toward me.

“Your infinity… appeared above a man’s head.”

Suddenly, I turned my head to the side.

It was like a reflex. Why had I done that? It was like a tic.

Nazlı said right next to my ear, “Oh my God, sis, yes, you got it right! There’s been someone interested in her for a long time.”

“Nazlı!” I said, rolling my eyes.

She was supporting this woman sitting next to me. I couldn’t say we were a great duo, but sometimes I felt good when I was with her. She was always cheerful. Always carefree.

Sometimes, even being relatives felt strange to me. I had never known my mother. We had lost her when I was too young to remember. No one had ever told me about her—not even the cause of her death.

She was the most precious thing I could never reach in this world. Even in this brief moment, my heart stumbled for a second.

I narrowed my eyes. This woman, brought upon us because of Nazlı, had stirred my inner world in this pleasant café.

It didn’t make sense. Not at all.

“Anyway, that’s enough. Let’s pay you. Thank you.”

I spoke up suddenly. I had caught the moment I had been waiting for.

The moment I reached for my wallet in my bag, the woman suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“No. Someone else.”

I froze.

So did she.

Nazlı fell silent as well.

I had no choice but to look into those green eyes from this close. Her gaze was full of meaning. There was something inside it that I didn’t know, yet felt familiar.

As strange as me… as cold as me…

Or maybe I couldn’t describe that meaning.

A face I had seen for the first time in my life… seemed to be looking at me with longing.

No way.

Longing was such an extreme feeling.

My mind filled with words again. All of them were trying to find meaning, but none of them could settle anywhere.

What did it have to do with anything?

For a moment, I frowned, then immediately relaxed my expression.

Her hands were cold. As the coldness of her hands seeped into my wrist, I shivered.

How dare she touch me?

I started to cast fleeting glances. Normally, I was someone who always pulled herself back. But now…

I had already answered her in my mind, pushed her away there. But in reality… I was missing what was actually happening.

In the end, with a forced smile, I gently pushed her hand away. I thought neither of us would want to cause a scene here. Because she was clearly crossing a line.

“Alright, let’s not exaggerate,” I said in an authoritative tone.

But the cold she left on my wrist… stayed there. It didn’t fade, it didn’t go away.

I looked at her for a while longer. That cold touch that brought me a strange sense of relief… damn it.

Cold… for me, in a meaningless way, was somehow meaningful.

When Nazlı continued asking the woman questions, I suddenly stood up. I couldn’t stand the voices inside me anymore. I grabbed her by the arm.

If necessary, I would drag her along with me.

I left the money on the table and quickly walked away without looking at the woman again.

Was it fear… or anger…? My heart was racing.

No!

It was something else.

Nazlı pulled her arm free as soon as we stepped into the café’s garden.

“Girl, okay, don’t believe in fortune-telling, but don’t go without it either. We could’ve listened a little more,” she started complaining.

“Sure…” I said, rolling my eyes.

I kept walking.

At least in this situation, Nazlı’s talking would drown out the voices in my head. At least, that’s what I hoped.

But there was a place… a place no one could silence. That place we all are sure exists inside us.

The truth that those voices are what make a human… human… was what scared me.

Actually, those missing melodies inside me… were already there before this woman said anything.

I knew it.

I felt it.

Today, everything… was more complicated than ever. Wasn’t there any chance that this tightness inside me was just a dream?

I took a deep breath.

Alright.

Tonight, I would sleep over and over again—for the nights when I wouldn’t be dreaming.