“What’s it like? You see it, right? It’s sitting right there.”

“Yes, I see it. Stuck in your throat,” I say.

“Oh,” he says, thrilled, and he looks around as if to say, “See, the doctor saw it. So I was right.”

“Let’s get it out then,” I said.

“Ok then, let’s.”

I go into the back to wash my hands. Serkan comes over and I say, “Go and find me an apricot. Quick.”

A little later he is back with the fruit. Taking out the seed, I conceal it in the palm of my hand.

Five minutes later the victim is holding the apricot seed I pretended to extract from his throat—an object nobody believed was actually there!—and like a victorious commander I raise it up in the air for all to see. Then I tell Serkan to bring us a round of tea.

*

A hot afternoon. I am looking out the window of my examination room. Villagers are coming to town early in the morning to sell their wares and buy whatever they need from Sümerbank. They are keen to hurry back to their villages before noon. On the backs of tractors young women and kids are sitting on sacks, boxes, cans of oil and the elderly are huddled under blankets in the corners. It looks like they are in a panic to get out of some forbidden zone they have been forced to pass through …

Taking my trusty stethoscope and high blood pressure kit and stuffing some morphine and an injector into my bag, I go outside.

I am going to Salih Abi’s house. Salih Abi is in his fifties and he has recently retired from the courthouse. They gave him the diagnosis in Ankara. Lung cancer. Advanced metastasis. There was no hope. In front of his house is a little garden with freshly planted vegetables. Clearly he has green fingers. In the corner sit five or six beehives and on the doorstep there is a scatter of shoes. It’s busy inside. Salih is propped up in bed, looking at the ceiling. Women are speaking to each other in hushed tones. Several kids are darting here and there. They spring into action when they see me. “Oh don’t take them off,” they insist, pointing to my shoes and I step inside. There is a sparkle in Salih’s eyes. It seems like he wants to get up. Going over to him, I slowly sit down at the head of the bed. We look at each other for a while.

“How are you today? You look really good.”