Don't you have the right to eat, Mrs. Fira? – he asked. He is also ashamed – ashamed:
– I haven't eaten – he murmured.
– Mashallah you are not alone.
The relationship between Doma and his brothers was not clear, they were people of another world. They looked at Karabala not as a big brother, but as a distant friend. Garabala wanted to be friends with them, hang out on the boulevard in the evenings, go to the grocery store, come to the old neighborhood and eat, and cook kebabs for them with his wife. On rare occasions, two or three times a year, his brothers would come to their grandfather's place, eat kebab there, drink tea and rush to get into their grandfather's car. It was two summers that Garabala came to Gubaya himself. Mrs. Fira's family would spend the summer in Antalya. It's good that Garabala didn't worry about these things, he was the nature of the old neighborhood…
Every time Garabala went out of the door of this house, Zakir the teacher would walk him to the door. Whispering in the hallway
– Do you have money? – he asked.
Garabala used to throw money into his pocket.
– There is a good way for you.
Garabala has just returned from his summer vacation in Guba. There was still plenty of time for schools to open. In fact, he didn't miss the city, he couldn't afford to miss it. Oh, he always managed to find a job for himself, in this sense, he took care of his grandfather.