Night does not give answers.
It only quietly deepens what remains.
Barış opened his eyes without knowing whether he had actually been asleep. The room was dark, and a few small lights of Göreme floated beyond the window. The outlines of the distant rock formations dissolved into the night, and the town that had been filled with the voices of tourists during the day now seemed to be holding its breath.
It was not a sound that had woken him.
Nor had anyone called his name.
Even so, he felt that he had to get up.
Barış stared at the ceiling for a while. The cave-style guesthouse room still held the chill of stone. He could tell without touching the walls. They should have been different from the stones of the underground city, yet in the night they felt like the same thing.
He slowly opened his right hand.
It is still there.
White fur.
The warmth of a living creature.
It should already have disappeared in reality. He had not washed his hands. Nothing physical remained. Even so, deep within his fingertips, the warmth of that dog still rested.
It was not that he could not sleep.
It was that if he fell asleep, it would feel as though that warmth had only been a dream.
Barış slowly sat up.
He put on the shoes beside the bed and picked up his jacket. His father’s map lay folded on the table. The edge of the paper moved ever so slightly in the faint breeze drifting in through the window.
It almost seemed to be saying, „Don’t go.“
It also seemed to be saying, „Go.“
Barış did not touch the map.
When he opened the door, the hallway was dark. The guesthouse was asleep. Somewhere, a water pipe made a faint sound, and then silence returned. Each step down the stairs made his footsteps sound louder than he expected.
When he stepped outside, the air before dawn touched his cheeks.
It was cold.
But it was not a cold that pushed him away. It was the pale blue chill that exists only before the night comes to an end.
The streets of Göreme felt like a different place from the daytime. The souvenir shop signs were dark, and the colors of the carpets hanging outside seemed asleep. The stone pavement glistened faintly with dew, and small shadows filled the holes in the distant rock formations.
The entire town wore a face that no one had yet seen.
Barış stopped in front of the guesthouse.
There was something white at the end of the alley.
At first, he thought it was a stone.
Then he thought it was a piece of cloth.
But then, it slowly raised its head.
It was the white dog.
The same dog from the underground city.
Barış held his breath.
The dog did not bark.
It did not come closer.
Nor did it run away.
It was simply there, quietly standing in the pale blue light before dawn.
„…Why?“
His voice was soft, dissolving into the nighttime alley.
The dog did not answer.
Of course, it could not answer.
Even so, Barış felt more strongly than ever that the dog knew something.
Had it come all the way from the underground city?
Had it followed him the entire way?
Or had it arrived first and been waiting for him?
None of those possibilities seemed believable, yet none of them could be completely denied.
Barış took a single step forward.
The dog did not move.
He could have taken another step.
He could have reached out his hand.
He could even have called its name.
But Barış did not come any closer.
The dog did not come closer either.
Between them was a different kind of distance from the one that had existed before he touched it in the underground city. It was not the distance of fear. Nor was it the distance of rejection.
It was the distance needed to keep something from breaking.
Barış sat down on the stone steps of the guesthouse.
The dog remained seated at the end of the alley.
Nothing happened.
Truly, nothing happened.
The dog did not bark.
Barış did not speak.
The wind stirred slightly, and an old wooden sign creaked softly. Somewhere far away, a bird gave a brief call. Barış imagined the cold air inside a kitchen where no one had yet awakened.
The night gradually became lighter.
Barış looked at the dog.
The dog looked back at him.
In that silence, Barış suddenly thought of his mother, Emine. She was someone who had protected others by not speaking. He thought of Deniz as well. She had protected herself through anger. Then he thought of his father, Mustafa. He had left many things behind, but not the words that mattered most.
Each of them had carried their own distance.
Some things break if you come too close.
Some things disappear if you move too far away.
The distance between him and the dog now felt like neither of those.
It still had no name.
He still did not know what it meant.
Even so, it did not disappear.
That alone quietly settled within Barış.
Strangely enough, he was no longer afraid.
The uncertainty remained.
There was still so much he did not understand.
But it was no longer the crushing fear he had felt in the darkness of the underground city.
Even without answers, there was someone who could cross the same night with him.
Perhaps that alone is enough for a person to remain standing, even if only a little longer.
The color of the sky began to change.
It was neither black nor blue, but a color that still had no name.
The tips of Göreme’s rock formations slowly emerged from the darkness. Somewhere in town, the sound of the first door opening echoed softly. From far away, the faint scent of freshly baked bread drifted through the air.
A new day was about to begin.
Barış stood up.
The dog was still sitting there.
„…Aren’t you going back?“
Only after asking did he realize he no longer knew what he was really asking.
Back underground?
Somewhere else?
Or away from him?
The dog did not answer.
It only lifted its head ever so slightly.
Its eyes seemed to be watching the end of the night, and at the same time, watching Barış.
Barış said nothing more.
It was still too early to call its name.
He still did not know enough to take it with him.
But somehow, it already felt too late to leave it behind.
The morning light gently touched the stones of the alley.
Even after dawn broke, the dog was still there.
That alone made it feel as though something had already been decided.
