Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
I stumbled over a dip in the sidewalk, tumbled over my own black boots in the peripheral glance of a polite Turkish man in a Captain’s hat. He didn’t want to look, but my gasp and my subsequent horrified laughter drew his full sympathetic stare. My humiliated giggles refused to stop, but echoed up the streets toward the mosque. He walked on and I wandered away with my shoulders close to my ears.
Up the hill, I passed the rear door of a tour bus just as a crowd of Germans disembarked–we mingled against my will. My “Entschuldigung”s went unheeded as the crowd shuffled toward the entrance to the Basilica of St. John. I freed myself and ducked past a man who stood outside his café calling, “Saft, kahve, lecker lecker lecker.”
Too rattled to continue any aimless sightseeing, I happened upon the witness of my morning trip. The old man lit up when he spotted me. He seemed ready to ask about my spirits, to offer his arm. His similarly antique walking companion followed his gaze and paused at my flushing face and shrug of acknowledgement. The Captain nodded and smirked as kindly as possible–assuring me that my clumsy secret was certainly not safe with him.