The Lure of Turkish Delight

“Where is the Turkish Delight we bought in Istanbul?”

“The lokum you mean? On the window sill.”

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“Lokum, shmokum. Who cares what it’s called. Why don’t we open a box?”

“Go ahead; I’ll be with you in a moment. I need to go down into the cellar first.”

“Ok. But hurry.” Pomi smiled.

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Downstairs I met my neighbor and we talked for a while.  About travelling, her recent trip to Prague and…

“Oh my goodness, Istanbul, I am sorry, I have to go, someone is waiting for me.” I apologized and hurried up the stairs.

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“I am sorry, Pomi, I ran into our neighbour”.  I explained as I walked into the apartment, but my little crochet guy did not answer, he was fast asleep. It looked like he had enjoyed the lokum.

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