I bought a cake with my last money from the package store. I went outside. It was a little past 12. The half cigarette I had left on the side when I entered the package store was out. I took the cigarette in my hand and started walking. I searched for a lighter in my pockets. It wasn’t there. As I passed the corner of İncesu junction, I saw a short man lighting a cigarette. I turned back after three steps.
“May I use your lighter?”
“Of course!”
He handed me the lighter. Just as I was about to light my half cigarette, he looked at it.
“Could you please throw that away? I’d like to offer you a cigarette.”
He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His hands were bruised from the cold. There was a red-canned beer at the corner of the wall.
“Thank you very much.”
“It’s nothing. It’s nothing. I didn’t want you to smoke a half cigarette.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t necessary.”
I was embarrassed. The fault line passed beneath my feet. I couldn’t get to the bottom of it.
This is how I met Mr. Miyagi.
He was a hairdresser. It had been 35 years. I asked which hairdresser.
“I usually work in Kırıkkale.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was cheated. Someone named Mert turned out to be dishonest. He took my money. I came here hoping to find him. I also got beaten up. Look!” he said.
He showed the wound on his head. The bruise around his eye had gone past his hands.
“It’s okay!” he said. “I’m here. The road continues. I also have my beer.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“They call me Miyagi. Mr. Miyagi. That’s how they know me.”
“Why?”
“When I was your age, my eyes were slanted when I was still handsome. There was Mr. Miyagi in the Karate Kid movie. They used to compare me to him.”
We moved on to the farewell. He handed me the entire pack of half cigarettes from his pocket. He insisted.
“I’m offering them to you. It came from my heart,” he said.
He talked about himself. I asked questions too.
“Do you have something on your mind? About life?” he asked.
“No,” I said. I thanked him. I took a couple of steps, turned around.
“Mr. Miyagi,” I said. “The road continues, yes. But I’m on a very difficult path. I don’t know what to do.”
“Look,” he said. “Look at this junction. Life is not just one road. You can turn in any direction you want at any time. We’re not in a horse race. Take off your glasses, run wherever you want!”
I looked at the road. A few taxis passed by.
“Good night,” I said.
“Good night,” said Mr. Miyagi.
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