"El elin eşeğini türkü çığırarak arar" - One searches for someone else's missing donkey while singing songs.

Altan felt miserable. It was Monday and he was holed up in his apartment with nothing to do. His cart was in shambles, his wrist was sprained, and he had a hard enough time selling coffee when he was parading up and down the street. He put a sign up outside his door anyway: "Hot, strong coffee HERE - Only 25¢!" Allah worked in mysterious ways - Altan had hope.

That morning, Altan had returned the money he'd pilfered from the doorman to the doorman's desk drawer. Altan felt guilty for taking it after thinking that perhaps the poor man had probably just gone to the bathroom. Altan also left the $2.50 he'd made the previous day as thanks to the doorman for tending his cart.

The day was cloudy, but the precipitation had subsided. Altan sat next to his window, observing passersby on the street below. If only he could be down there... the market was full of opportunity this day. A fair had set up down the road early in the morning causing just enough racket to let everyone know it was there. As the day progressed more and more people made their way toward it, many of whom clearly weren't going for the rides, but simply wanted to peruse, check out the scene. Altan saw Braxton carrying all of his lemonade supplies in his arms as he made his way down the street to where the crowd was. Altan snorted - he detested the fact that this devious little boy who peddled overpriced, tasteless lemonade made more sales than him, an honest, experienced man who sold fine Turkish coffee for only 25¢.

Suddenly the sound of sirens filled the air and Altan shivered - that noise was still to familiar to him. A fire truck whizzed down the street, its horn blaring, its garish lights illuminating the windows of the buildings it passed. Altan moved away from his window, having no desire to know the cause of this disturbance. There was a knock on his door - thanks be to Allah! Someone wanted some coffee. Altan shuffled across the room and opened the door with a flourish.

"Care for kahve, Ms. Nox?" The repair woman was holding a pen and notepad and gave him a look.
"The super needs to know if you have any leaks." Altan's smile slipped slowly off his face and he sighed, disappointed.
"Oh, yes, well, the window is -"
"Got it."

Edna walked off without another word, making a mark on her paper. Altan stood there for a minute, disheartened, before shutting the door. No one needed him, no one wanted his coffee. What a miserable Monday.