I was later than I expected, so I rushed downstairs to find him at Starbucks with a cup of coffee. His marketing journals and cigarettes on the table, only the latter appealing to me at that moment. So I lit one, gave some quick answers, said I was really hungry. In the middle of the city, away from the Bosphorus, the sound of water coming from the fountains of the spaceship-mall made me feel different, detached, in spite of his presence pulling me towards familiar waters.
Within two minutes of being seated at Wagamama, we looked at each other and pronounced the very same word, as if it was hanging in the air in a bubble. Experience, was the word. I thought of experiment too, right after I started reading the menu, but I didn't say it out loud. This was before the food's arrival and I was the pilot landing us where we were supposed to eat. And the menu did not give guarantees.
Gokce ended up loving everything. I realized I had forgotten about his fondness of food, thought hard so I can recall something, say if he liked desserts especially, or any cuisines. "I have no memory of it," went the Gandalf in my head. And it's not like my body was there with him and the noodles while my mind wandered through the castles of our past. Of course I was there body and soul most of the time, with the informative waiter and the yummy side dish, the baby with the devilish grin and what we talked about, the rhythms he played with chopsticks and Gokce himself.

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