H for Handan

Handan was aching for Kayseri like a throbbing tumour in her brain. She was homesick for the ancient Citadel and the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia, a habitat she had grown accustomed to for all of the eighteen years of her life. 

The hot air balloon catastrophe changed their lives. With father gone, within a year, their finances were stretched to the limit. 

Her mother, a housewife all her married life sighed wearily, "Handan, you have to go and find work. We can't go on like this. Uncle told me they are recruiting for factory workers in Istanbul. The pay is good and you can live with your cousin on the Asian side."

So within a week, she found herself training as a machine operator in a textile factory in Istanbul, Asian side.

As Handan tried to memorise the sequence of the procedures for Mule Spinning Machine Type MSM 644/Crompton/7645, she spotted a tall well built guy in Blue overalls pass her aisle. She had seen him around and even sat at the same bench for lunch a few days ago. 

"He reminds me a lot of father, the way he takes pride in his work" she smiled to herself. "A man with dimples. Hmmm nice."