re ted, “I  to die  me s so I  fall in. I gasped for air and to my fore breatives, I sensed I miged my sobs and oget suppose t Elegant Effendi and I had been in love.

    I ree until to avoid dratention to myself. A relative of t to  tree and stared deep into my eyes urday“ or ”ednesday‘?““”ednesday“ ed for a time,” I said. .

    tory beo one anot pact, icesurist ed from assistant master to ter, , admiration and love for uoso and auging artistic gift and tellect of a jinn. Early eacices, one of us o ter’s fully beo tfolio full of papers. So desperate o be near  ermine w day.

    Master Osman e. But if o go, it he never-ending

    gossip and tasteless jokes t inevitably filled t master decided t eac master ayed at urdays. er betrayed ting trade—all turist more gifted t a young age, succumbing to t on by a mysterious illness. Elegant Effendi, may  in peace, er, our great master meaningfully and lovingly cuesday” to “Olive,” from “Friday” to “Stork,” and from “Sunday” to “Butterfly,” renaming ted as “Elegant” in allusion to t master must o te Elegant just as o greet all of us back then.

    my eyes migears: Master Osman admired us, and ear ings,  as if alent blossomed  its s hen.

    Noely divided, just like ted by one master edly becomes a murderer, it takes time to adjust. I’ve adopted a second voice, one befitting a murderer, so t I migill carry on as tinued. I am speaking no of my regular life. From time to time, of course, you’ll  become a murderer. But o