Ali, huddled under the small attic window, turned the worn pages of his father's journal. In the flickering light of his flashlight, he noticed that the ink was watered and smeared on some of the lines – were they tears?
"March 12, 2005
Today in Blacktown, we protested against the increase in water bills. The police sprayed water on the crowd with fire trucks. Isn't it ironic? They are using the expensive water we pay for against us…"
Ali's fingers stopped on the next page. The edge of the page was brown with blood.
I am wounded. I have a rubber bullet mark on my shoulder. But the real wound is losing Ece...
Note: I learned today that the mayor's nephew has won the city's water tenders. Journalists revealed that the water that was cut off because we were 'wasting' was watering his golf courses. But no one did anything. The journalists were detained."
When the doorbell rang the next morning, Ali was still under the influence of the diary. An old woman was standing at the door, trying to protect her black hair from the wind.
"I'm Ece," the woman said, ignoring Ali's surprised look. "We resisted together with your father in Blacktown. I heard about what happened in Applehall yesterday."
She held out a small USB that she had pulled out of her pocket:
"Murat's missing diary pages. And... documents showing how the mayor's nephew has become rich in the last 10 years."
After Ece left, Ali noticed his mother's rush in the kitchen. Fatma rubbed her grandfather's thermos and mumbled:
"There was something at the bottom of this thermos." "He left it there years ago, I remember!"
When the coating on the bottom of the thermos was removed, a small microfilm was revealed. It had a single word written on it:
"Well"