Now I'm back, thinking about what happened. The door is solid; if the wall collapses, I will hear the sound; I wonder what kind of strangeness I will encounter.
"What happened, Rimel?"
Our folks came back before me, and they all said the same word; I couldn't see anything strange when I looked, but Rimel looked at the tray she held in one hand in astonishment.
"What do you mean what happened? Look at this!"
When Rimel turned her left hand, I saw that he was not holding the tray, and there was no longer a tray in the middle. The old tray greets us with a familiar face on its semicircular surface, stuck to Rimel's wrist from where it curved outward.
"This is the face of the raw meatball seller. Wherever I see it, I recognize that renegade bastard!"
Toraman bellowed like an ox, reached for the tray, and wanted to take it from the young girl's hand, but the convex metal tray did not leave Rimel.
"Don't pull, Toraman. Are you going to tear off my arm?"
