I was sitting at the bus station. It was time to leave. Time to go to an unknown place because I had seen no good from the places I knew; anyway, they've said since old times that sometimes you get more from a stranger than from someone you know. I didn't want to bring anything with me because, by then, those things also counted as familiar. The weather was cold; everyone was saying goodbye to their families or their lovers and then lighting a cigarette; the smell of cigarette smoke and the cold made my world dirtier. I had figured out that two things don't draw attention for a traveler; one is smoking, the other is crying; that's why I was drawing a lot of attention. An old woman was staring at me, and with her look, she was telling me that I looked very much like someone; like someone she missed immensely. Maybe that's why she had become an old woman. The suitcase she was holding was very heavy; I realized this when she came towards me and took short steps; when she reached me, she just stared at me for thirteen seconds; I was looking everywhere but at her. Finally, with a voice trembling from the cold, she said to me: "Where are you going, son?" That's when I realized who she missed. Based on what I had seen; everyone in this situation quickly became familiar, and by the end, they'd even say "mother, mother." But if I were that old woman, I wouldn't want someone to treat me that way; I didn't want someone to fill my son's place for me for a moment, then go on with their life; this way, they would be guilty too, guilty of the same sin my son had committed a few days or maybe years ago. I lowered my head and said nothing. She said: "Sir, I'm talking to you." Now I wasn't sure who she missed and I could answer her. I said: "It depends on where the buses go." She said: "My daughter also left on one of those buses to a place I don't know!" I just hoped my mother wouldn't say this to someone one day. But do they even differ?! Someone else's child is someone else's child. She sat next to me and said: "I can't go look for her. I know wherever she is, she's better off than she was with me." I lowered my head; I had nothing to say to her. She looked at the buses, God's wind shook her white hair and caressed it; the water of life gathered in her eyes, fell, fell. A mother's cry is like rain, it's a blessing; the crow's feet around her eyes were the path of her river of tears reaching the ground; the thunder and lightning within had dried her hair. I wish old women could live longer than others to fertilize the earth more. I couldn't tell her not to cry; it was something she had to do. The fact that her head was held high and her scarf was white meant she had done the things she should have done for her daughter. Again, I lowered my head; tearfully, she gave me her suitcase and said softly: "If you find my daughter, give this to her. If it's not in my hands, at least I won't tell myself I didn't try." I said: "What's her name?" She said: "Angelina. She really loves pizza, if you have money, you can find her." I was still thinking about this sentence when I saw she was gone. I was left with a single suitcase whose owner I didn't know. Its leather was torn, its handle was broken; yet, I didn't think the girl had money for me to find her in a pizza place; no matter how small this city might be...
The bus came. I went and got on; on one of the middle seats. I wanted to travel light, but that suitcase was so heavy that I felt more sorry for the old woman than for myself. A woman with her small child got on and sat behind the driver. No one wants their leg bones to ache from the cold in a bus instead of being at home; everyone on that bus had to be there. It's natural for it to rain when the bus starts moving; it's always been that way. The sound of car wheels in the water, the sound of the whining child who sat with his mother behind the driver... Damn, I wish I could mute these sounds and just see their image... like looking at the sky; the sun was using all its strength to break through the clouds but that poor thing was alone and the clouds were together. With the first roar of the sky's anger, the child's sound stopped, and the driver and I breathed a sigh of relief; I could finally close my eyes. Where could I find Angelina? I, who had lost God, had to look for an angel. The suitcase kept hitting my leg so I opened my eyes, looking for a sign to open it; now the sign had come. I wanted to know what angels wear or what their things look like. That suitcase was a trust; deep in my heart, I wanted to open it but... I hoped God would forgive me this time...
I opened the suitcase. I wish it had belonged to a boy at least, so I could complete my sin and take his clothes... Anyway, sometimes God has no choice but to forgive. I moved her clothes aside, at the bottom of the suitcase was a box. I took it out; opened it and saw two photos inside; one of the photos was of a little girl, and I could tell it was Angelina; she was wearing white and was biting her lower lip; as if since childhood she wanted to let go. She was beautiful, all children are beautiful, but when they grow up, because of the sins they commit, their faces change. This is what my mom used to tell me; I think from a certain age I forgot this sentence, that's why I changed so much and everyone looks at me as if all the sins I've committed appear before their eyes; the only good thing is that I became a lesson for others. The next photo was of Angelina as a teenager and the old woman who gave me the suitcase; though in the photo, she wasn't old, she was even happier and younger than her daughter. In the photo, the girl was still biting her lip; growing up hadn't changed anything. These photos, instead of hurting the girl's heart, would have made her more certain of her decision. I could understand the old woman's words, she really must be better off now than before. There was a letter in the netting on the side of the suitcase. Parts of the paper were wrinkled and thin; it was clear whoever wrote it had cried a lot.
"My daughter, it's been two years now that I dream of you. I managed to buy these clothes for you in these two years. I don't know where you are, but please take very good care of yourself. There are two photos under your clothes; look at them and compare them to now. I've gotten very old, it's like I've aged thirty years..."
I already felt I was getting too involved in their relationship. I put the letter and the photos back in their place and closed the suitcase. The rain was hitting the window harder than ever; the child's crying started again. When I think that one day I used to cry like that, I hate myself even more. Finally, I arrived at a faraway place, I had come from the east to the lower part of the city; after reading the letter, I thought Angelina must be somewhere in the lower part of the city. At least I felt less alone, there was someone who, like me, whether right or wrong, had done something they had to do. When I got off, the only good thing I felt was the cessation of the child's crying. Although, after walking a bit in the rain, the heaviness of the suitcase was breaking my back so much that I realized the sound of the child crying was a blessing I hadn't appreciated. I had to get rid of this suitcase somehow and then go to my lonely corner. I had learned these things among the bigger crowds; I who had never seen my father was entrusted to one of his friends to separate me from my mother after a certain age and teach me strange things. Pickpocketing, conning people, and such; then they would take whatever money I made and give me food in exchange. I was in this line of work for years but then I got tired... of myself, of the filth that had covered my entire being. I was like the sun, my strength couldn't push away the black clouds. "And God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness." This sentence was on a paper in the wallet of one of my targets; that was the last wallet I stole. After I grew up, I went back to my mother; she loved me dearly but my soul had already changed. I left my mother. What else could be done? Anyway... I must think positively; I have no home and no money but at least now I have a goal, that in itself is progress. The ground was wet, the rain forced me to blink faster, the suitcase had become heavier than ever. The first place I saw after getting off was a pizza shop. I went in and asked about Angelina, the only thing I knew was that she always bites her lower lip. The guy looked at me so badly that I preferred to come out. Obviously, my father didn't want a cowardly son like me, but today's world has changed; sometimes a kid with a knife can send a few people to their graves. The rain had increased; what could I do? How could I find her? I decided to act more seriously so they'd think I was acquainted with Angelina. I took out the photo of Angelina and her mother from the suitcase, holding the photo under it as I carried the suitcase. I went into the next pizza shop; I frowned and went forward. I put the photo in front of him and said: "Do you know this girl? Has she eaten here?" He said: "No." I had to trust his word. If I didn't trust him, what else could I do? I said: "Do you know what happens if you lie?" I knew that if he lied, I would be the one to lose. He said: "Do you know what happens if you don't get out of here?" Nothing was as I expected. I went out and checked four more pizza places. One said, "Do I remember everyone's face?" Another said, "Get out..." My hands were tied. I was sitting on a step, washing my soul with God's grace under the rain. If I didn't find Angelina, I would be the loser. I was going around with a handleless suitcase, but what was the use? A person achieves any goal they have, but the problem is that the difficulty of achieving each goal is different. I could accept that I had lost but... a little boy, under the rain, with muddy shoes... passed by me... that boy didn't have a suitcase with him, but that girl in this rain... where was she really now? The wind was blowing... it had gotten colder... as if I was worried... I had a feeling... the wind was blowing but I was freezing from within... the wind was blowing... the photo of me and my mom... my eyes were seeing images that weren't there... I am alive but... who has time to live?... I stopped; I started walking, showing the photo of that girl to everyone I met. A feeling told me she wasn't here, but I was willing to go find her even if she was in the sky... I would tell her... I would tell her... someone... has been crying for you for two years and sent clothes... The wind was blowing; I saw another pizza shop. I made a deal with myself that if it had at least two customers eating inside, then it meant they knew Angelina... Damn my childhood habits. I opened the door, two people were eating; I went forward, put the photo on the counter and said: "Do you know what it means to not have clothes in the cold?" This girl understands well now; you know her, so tell me where she is so I can give her clothes. He looked, when he opened his mouth, I got cold again... He said: "Two alleys down, next to the flower shop, there's a house; she lives there, she used to work here for a while but after a few months she went there." His voice was trembling but his eyes were like a white demon who was upset that I woke him from his lonely sleep. I went two alleys down; there was a flower shop in the middle of the alley, the shop windows were dirty, the alley was full of wet cigarette butts, the sound of an old man coughing from somewhere I didn't know. I started walking, I could hear my heartbeat, with every step I took the rain lessened; finally I reached the door I needed to reach. The rain had stopped but I was still wet. The flower shop woman came out of her shop and said angrily: "Why won't you leave these girls alone? They're sick; you understand?" Her eyebrows were like guillotine blades. I said, "Does Angelina live here?" She unfurrowed her brow but was still angry, shaking her head in a sign of negation. I showed her the picture of Angelina. She said, "God damn her, she was the first one to get sick." Very seriously, I said, "What does she do here?" She got scared and said, "The same thing you came here for. There are three girls here, young and beautiful." My whole being shattered; I stared at her photo and said softly, "I have to see her." She said, "You can't. She's sick." I couldn't let it go; I had to see it with my own eyes, to believe both the old woman's story and the flower seller's words. I insisted so much that she finally agreed; after she said 'follow me,' I didn't hear anything else. She opened the door with a key more rusted than the door itself. The stairs were dirty and full of all kinds of trash. I froze... We went up until we reached a half-open door with filth piled in front of it. She opened the door softly... The smell of garbage mixed with a sweet, feminine perfume. Three women, one of whom was habitually chewing her lip, were staring at me. All three of them, with their own specific allure, were beckoning me to come closer; I was staring into Angelina's eyes... A Lucifer who had chosen to leave heaven and had ended up like this. This woman; her mother, me, and the whole world had been plunged into misery. A few seconds passed and everything fell silent. I froze... She was biting her lip, I could compare her to her photo; she had become older than her mother. I turned around; without a word, I came out of that ruined place. It was just me and a suitcase that belonged neither to me nor to that woman. The sun had risen high; familiar and stranger no longer held any difference. I couldn't give this suitcase to her, I didn't regret what I had done. The die was cast. If she found out how much her mother loved her, she would either kill herself or those around her, and worse than all, she wouldn't do the deed, she would just give a faint smile. When the die is cast, one-sided love allows both people to live and die as they please; one in love, the other in filth. That was all of it, now that I've written all this, I'm sitting in that same alley and I want to leave this suitcase right here and go back to my mother; I don't want my mother to become an old woman searching for a son older than herself. If I were to be in a strange land too, who knows what calamities would befall me in this city. This angel… was not that Angelina; this suitcase I dragged all this way, this is not the suitcase beside me. I must go back; it's getting dark, I must go back...
