I am married and we live in a 4-storey apartment in Ankara. My husband and I are bank officer. That night, my husband would come late. In between those inspectors were supervising the branch and my husband was delayed a few nights. I watched TV in a frustrating way and I was waiting for it. At one point the electricity was off. I noticed that other apartments light's were on when I looked out. It was probably insured. I lifted the fuses, but no electricity. It was a failure that I could not understand. My husband could take longer to arrive. After I sat in a little candle light, I felt like I was crying at home, and I went downstairs and called my door. Our doorman Cetin was quite quiet, married, a man about the same age as me and my husband. I had very rough facial features, and I felt uncomfortable, feeling a few times looking back at me. But in such a case I did not hesitate to call up for insurances. A few minutes later he came up, looked at the fuse and said he could fix it. He took the suitcase from below and came back. As the fuses were just behind the street gate, he closed the door and started to work on the top of the stairway in the candle light. I was watching him with the candle in hand. It was a rather heavy raki-flavor. Even at this distance, my skin was covered. After we worked a little bit, we started talking. They had very strange glances. It seemed as though he wanted to kill the other side. On the one hand in darkness, I was afraid of this man. He was telling me things, but I was not listening to him. I wanted him to finish it as soon as possible. Later, my husband asked where he was and I told him that I would make my life mistake and come back very late tonight.
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