After throwing the product inside the hole, Eman grabbed the trap door he had recently bought, and we began fastening screws into it. After about 30 minutes of labor, the trap door appeared completely refurbished.
"Sigh, let me call Adem and update him on the supply," I mumbled to myself as I re-entered Eman's car.
Retrieving the phone from my pocket, I instructed Eman to maintain silence as I dialed Adem's number. The ring resonated in my ear until the phone clicked and I said, "Hello, The Nameless here."
"Ah, my friend, how are you?" Adem responded.
"Good, and you?" I asked, Eman starting the car and driving off the garages.
"Perfect! I presume you called to inform me about the supply," excitement tinged his voice.
"Yes, I've started the production and..." I paused momentarily, contemplating the web of intricate plans unfolding. I decided to withhold the imminent delivery timeline, a strategic move to safeguard myself.
